and the scarry skies above
by planless
Summary: [AU] Itachi is four and there's a war going on. By the age of seven, he's hailed as a prodigy. When he turns thirteen, he receives a gift he will treasure forever. By twenty, he's known beauty. And when he turns twenty-five – [ItaSaku]
1. little genius

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **little genius**

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When little Itachi is two, he somehow gets his hands on a shuriken and throws it, much like he's seen his father do. His black eyes follow the trajectory until the weapon hits the edge of the target lightly before clattering to the ground. Toddling over, he picks it up and tries again.

This time the metal star hits dead centre.

* * *

 **A/N:** Something that's been idling around on my desktop for quite a while. From time to time, I like to re-read it. It's nothing major, but I like these episodic works which only offer little glimpses in a character's life as they progress and grow older. Perhaps some of you will appreciate it as well as some light reading. Not sure how this'll end yet :-) love, planless

 **word** **count:** 63


	2. little monkey, up at the jar

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **Little Monkey, up at the Jar**

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By the time Itachi is three, he no longer needs to ask his mother for a cookie. Instead, he climbs on top of the kitchen counter and from there up, up, up the cupboards, until his short arm dips into the cookie jar, sticking to wood and wall like a little monkey that's been glued to the surface.

Itachi doesn't quite understand how it works, but it does, and as long as he gets his cookie, he is happy.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'll probably pop out a few more of these tonight, just to give you an idea of what you can expect from this. I'm proofreading them as I go along but might still end up missing a few typos, so please bear with me. Love, planless

 **word count:** 80


	3. Whispers of Grief

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **whispers of grief**

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Itachi is four and there is a war going on. He knows, even if he doesn't really comprehend what it means. All he sees is that cousins are missing, aunts and uncles, and everybody in the village is swallowed up by grief.

His father takes him to see the corpses, and suddenly being able to scale walls in order to sneak out sweets is not enough anymore, so he trains.

Itachi still doesn't quite grasp what a war is, but he knows that he hates it and he doesn't want it to happen again.

* * *

 **A/N:** By the way, my prime days of being a Naruto-know-it-all are long passed, so I'm making up my own timelines as I go along. They are roughly based on what I can remember, but then again Kishimoto's timelines have always confused me, so yeah... Don't take this too seriously. It's just a little project for me to relax between bouts of university work :) love, planless.

 **wordcount:** 101


	4. Logical

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **logical**

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Itachi is five, and his father is training him. It is hard, and gruelling, and all those other things little children shouldn't have to endure. He knows that because he can see the unhappy glances his mother sends his father's way whenever they leave for the training grounds, but she keeps quiet and so does Itachi.

This is something he has to do.

He's not a child anymore, after all.

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 **A/N:** Nothing just now. Maybe something will come to mind.

 **word count:** 71


	5. Avarice, or The Third

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **avarice, or the third**

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When Itachi is six, he is hailed as a prodigy and enrolled at the ninja academy. People are proud of him, and expect him to graduate by the age of nine, cutting the average time frame in half. They sing his praises left and right: people he knows, people he doesn't know, some of them people he doesn't even like because they feel mean and angry and look at him with a darkness in their eyes that makes him shiver.

He beats their expectations by two years.

* * *

 **A/N:** Maybe I'll include some Christian imagery in this. I know it doesn't fit, but I still like playing around with it and I can't be bothered to write anything else at the moment.

 **word count:** 89


	6. Ushered Ever Onwards, Into Years Beyond

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **ushered ever onwards, into years beyond an age**

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When Itachi graduates at the age of seven, the whole village is buzzing. The people he knows, the ones he doesn't know, and the ones he doesn't even like congratulate him, all but lining up to reach the heir of the Uchiha, the _greatest shinobi the world has seen since the founding of Konoha_. Shisui laughs and tells him they are exaggerating, but it still makes Itachi uncomfortable.

He needs to be placed on a genin team, and probable candidates for the position of his sensei fall over themselves in an attempt to prove their worth to Itachi's father.

Fugaku has a long private talk with the Hokage. Itachi waits patiently in front of the office, nodding at well-wishers and returning greetings as curtly as possible without being considered impolite.

Eventually, Fugaku emerges, and he tells Itachi that the question of his mentor has been thoroughly discussed and settled. When he, along with two other genin (both of them older than him), is placed under the tutelage of a young kunoichi whose arms are covered in scars, he realises that his father loves him and, in his own quiet and stubborn way, wants to make his life easier.

"You are a kind child, Itachi," his father tells him when he's sure nobody is around to hear. Giving his son one of his rare smiles, he rests a hand on top of his head and the gesture feels oddly final. "She will take good care of you."

* * *

 **A/N:** Again: I am messing around with the timelines.

 **word count:** 254


	7. Questioning Wisdom

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **questioning wisdom**

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The kunoichi, despite being so young, is wise beyond her years. Itachi can see it in her eyes, and he thinks that she must have fought in the war. Because apart from the wisdom that her gaze holds, he can see a weariness in there as well, and despite the straight line of her back and her confident strides, she seems tired. Itachi wonders if he is the only one who sees it.

His teammates surely don't. He throws them a distasteful glance from the corner of his eye - they are huddled together at the end of the red bridge where their team has met up for the first time. They clearly don't believe in her abilities - after all, pink is a girly colour and what kind of girly ninja could possibly be a good ninja?

The kunoichi only raises an eyebrow. "You don't share their opinion?" she asks Itachi. He takes a moment to look at her, and what he sees is not girlishness, but beauty. Her pale pink hair and green eyes form a startling contrast against the black of her sleeveless jonin uniform, and beneath the scars peppered over her skin he can see well-defined muscle and _strength_. This is someone who has been broken by violence but somehow managed to fit themselves back together.

Suddenly feeling very shy, young Itachi drops his gaze. "No," he admits quietly with a little shake of his head. The kunoichi studies him for a moment. "Very good," she then says gently. "Never judge a book by its cover."

She then leads them to the training grounds and proceeds to beat the crap out of them, and by the end of the lesson Itachi's companions don't think she's girly anymore. Instead, they are in awe at her proficiency and sheer display of skill, and their eyes nearly pop out of their heads when after everything is said and done, she sits them all down and heals them, until they are as good as new. They think it is _cool_ and _awesome_ , but Itachi knows they do not see the same beauty as he does.

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 **A/N:** Lalalaa, guess who it is? By the way, I think I got the idea for this setting from someone, but I can't remember for the life of me. Maybe it was a drawing or another story on this web page... In any case, thank you, person-I-cant-remember!

 **word count:** 366


	8. It is nothing, and yet

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **it is nothing, and yet...**

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Their first mission as a team is so dreadfully simple Itachi wants to scoff. They have to catch a cat that has escaped its owner and been missing for two days. While Tetsuo and Mamoru speed ahead, both confident in their abilities to find the animal before the other, Itachi trails behind.

"What's with the face?" his mentor asks, and when he turns to look he sees her smiling down at him. "I –" he begins, unsure of what to say. "It's nothing." He drops his head and looks away, but when the kunoichi strides past him to catch up to the two boisterous genin in front of him, she gently runs her hand over his shoulder and he knows she understands.

"Learn from them," is all she says, and Itachi is left staring at her back as she moves further ahead.

"Learn from them?" he asks, and can't quite manage to hide the disbelief colouring his voice. "What can they do that I can't?" She glances at him over her shoulder.

"Well, Itachi-kun, I sure as hell won't tell you, because that would be cheating. But I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

He spends the rest of the day staring at his team mates intently, trying to discern what exactly they are supposed to teach him. He doesn't see it - they are perfectly average. Perfectly normal.

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 **A/N:** Nothing just now.

 **word count:** 228


	9. A Life Older Than Years

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **a life older than years**

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"Sensei?" Tetsuo asks after they have caught the cat and dropped it off at its home. "How'd you get your scars?"

Itachi looks up from his stick of dango, interest piqued. He'd like to know the answer to that, as well. "Well," she begins after popping the last of her dango into her mouth, thoughtfully twirling the wooden stick between long fingers. "That's a difficult question, Tetsuo-kun. Because each of them has its own history."

Itachi's eyes wander over her bare arms that are covered in faded lines and ridges up to where her uniform begins, and he is sure that there are more of them hidden beneath the layers of clothing. Mamoru seems to think the same, because he frowns and says, "You have far too many scars for someone your age, sensei."

She cocks her head and looks at them. "War tends to do that to people. And I haven't died, so I'm sure that has to count for something." It feels a little odd to her hear say that, without tears or smiles or anything of the sort, so Mamoru offers her the last of his dango as a consolation.

Consolation for what Itachi isn't really sure, but it feels like the right thing to do.

* * *

 **A/N:** I like sensei Sakura :-) She's probably fairly OOC, but I like to imagine that she's grown up in this era, lost a ton of friends in the war, and as an accomplished medic seen even more death than the average shinobi, in part because she is one of those who have to deal with the aftermath of battle when all the others get to return home. It might have rendered her a little more mellow than Shippuuden-Sakura ever was.

 **word count:** 210


	10. The First Stars

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **the first stars**

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The D-Rank missions end soon enough, and thanks to Itachi's reputation they skip the Cs altogether. Sakura doesn't seem pleased - he can tell by the way her lips press into a thin line when the hokage tells them - but she doesn't object. That night she takes them all to the training grounds to stargaze.

"I don't get what we're doing here," Tetsuo wails into the darkness. "I mean - what's the point?" To Itachi's surprise it is Mamoru who answers. "Shut up," is all he says. The effect is all the greater because he usually sides with Tetsuo on pretty much everything. When Itachi glances over, he can tell by the conflicted expression on his face that this _means_ something to Mamoru, and when he glances at Sakura he realises that she knows.

"What's your problem?" Tetsuo snaps after a moment of stunned silence, but it doesn't sound as gruff as he would have probably liked. For a while, all they hear is the chirping of crickets.

"My father often took me to look at the stars," Mamoru eventually answers. There is no complaining after that, because they all know Mamoru's father died during the war.

"Why don't you tell us something about the constellations?" Sakura suggests. For the next minutes, they listen to the young boy talk first haltingly, then in an increasingly fluid manner about the different stars and how they align, their names and history. It is something Itachi considers essentially useless knowledge, but he listens anyway, because Mamoru has a nice voice and he doesn't really want to be anywhere else right now.

* * *

 **A/N:** I might move these following chapters back a bit or pull some of them forward as I go along – I'm not sure yet, but maybe I'll want to have more in-between situations. If there's anything you guys would like to see, feel free to make suggestions :)

 **word count:** 267


	11. The Unprofessionals

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **the unprofessionals**

* * *

Their B-Rank is simple enough. They are to escort a travelling merchant who is dealing in jewellery and rare gems. The man seems nice, and from the way Sakura and he greet each other Itachi surmises they are acquainted. His suspicions are confirmed when Sakura introduces them.

"You three, this here is Saburo-san. Saburo-san, this is my team. Mamoru-kun, Itachi-kun and Tetsuo-kun. That's the one with the big mouth over there."

"I do not have a big mouth!" Tetsuo bristles immediately. The merchant only laughs. "My, they surely are a sight, aren't they?" Tetsuo grumbles quietly, but when they move out and make for the borders, Sakura gently ruffles his hair and that seems to somewhat mollify him.

They make camp when night falls, and Sakura assigns the different guard shifts. Tetsuo and Itachi are to take first, until midnight, and then Sakura and Mamoru will take over.

From his perch in a thickly leafed oak, Itachi can see them huddling closer to the fire next to Saburo. Their low conversation filters through the night, and all too soon Mamoru nods off. He watches him sink against Sakura's side and she shifts so his head comes to rest on her thigh. Itachi thinks his behaviour - and her's by extension - highly unprofessional, but can't find it within himself to actually mind.

Midnight draws close soon, and before he knows it Sakura has taken up his spot in the tree and he is rolled up in his sleeping bag by the dying fire, Tetsuo snoring next to him. In the early hours of the morning, when the sun has yet to rise, Itachi is jerked awake by movement at the edge of his awareness. He carefully cracks open one eye, only to see Sakura move soundlessly past the camp and into the undergrowth on the other side of the clearing. Moments later she reemerges, with a sleeping Mamoru in her arms. _So unprofessional_ , Itachi thinks, but still can't seem to take any actual offence. So he looks on quietly as Sakura gently lowers down Mamoru onto his bedroll and tucks him in.

Before returning to her hiding spot in the trees, she turns to send a quick wink at Itachi. Then she is gone, and he is left with burning cheeks and the knowledge he has been caught.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you guys for the reviews so far! This will be the last chapter for today, I believe. I have to sleep at some point. But I appreciate knowing there are some people out there who take an interest in this, even if it is just me playing around with words. love, planless

 **word count:** 392


	12. The Four Rings of Revelation

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **the four rings of revelation**

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The mission itself goes off without a hitch, and at the end of it all Saburo hands each of them a shiny small pendant. "Consider it your tip," he smiles and winks, and then he is off, heading to where his next escort will pick him up. Itachi eyes the jewellery critically. It is a little bulky ring made of shiny metal, barely big enough to fit over his pinkie.

"Itachi-kun, always so critical," Sakura chuckles, catching on to his scepticism, and he blushes, much to his own chagrin. He watches their sensei kneel on the ground and pull out a scroll from her travel bag. A little puff of smoke rises up as she unseals a roll of surgical thread and cuts off four even pieces with a kunai.

"Here," she says, smiling, and hands them the string. "This doesn't look very stable, Sakura-sensei," Mamoru ponders even as he follows her example and makes a makeshift necklace for the metal ring to dangle from. "Oh yeah?" she replies with a raised eyebrow. Hooking one finger under the thread, she pulls and pulls and pulls, until Mamoru's face is right in front of hers.

"Alright," he mumbles. "It is quite sturdy."

"Wear it like that until we get home. Then you can go and find some real chains for them," she says. Itachi doesn't see the point. The rings are baubles like any other. They are not even pretty, just four simple pieces of metal.

Lagging a bit behind his team, he drops the pendant into his kunai pouch, deeming it unworthy of further consideration.

* * *

 **A/N:** Rings of metal – any idea where I got that from?

 **word count:** 256


	13. On Silent Feet, Doubt Comes Creeping In

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **on silent feet, doubt comes creeping in**

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He's almost nine when he makes his first kill.

What initially alerts him to the danger is no suspicious snap of some twig, no rustling of leaves, no flare of chakra or peculiar smell in the wind that is blowing their direction. It is the way his sensei's shoulders stiffen minutely and her fingers flex the tiniest bit. The next thing he knows, they are all standing back to back, weapons drawn.

Out of the four of them, only Sakura appears completely composed. While calm on the outside, Itachi can't quite keep his stomach from rolling nervously and frankly, Mamoru and Tetsuo are just a mess, eyes flitting this way and that, with beads of sweat trickling down their foreheads.

He doesn't really think, just reacts. When the first attacker comes shooting at them out of nowhere, all it takes is a single swipe of Itachi's kunai to fell him. He can feel the blood specks on his face and hands, burning away at his skin. This time, he thinks.

He thinks about his team and his sensei, about his parents, the expectations placed on him. He also thinks about how he doesn't like killing, no, he doesn't like it at all.

A sharp cry has him whirl around. One of the men is closing in on Tetsuo, wielding an ugly sword and even uglier grin. "C'mere, you little brat," he cackles, raising one arm to strike. And then he gasps and falls like a tree, Itachi's shuriken protruding from his neck and face.

For a split second, Itachi can only stare. Suddenly Tetsuo is barreling past him, a mixture of rage and fear on his face, and Itachi whirls around in time to see him stab another bandit who has approached him from behind in the abdomen. They finish him off together. Tetsuo grins at Itachi. "That makes us even," he gasps.

Mamoru cries out, and the two genin run to save their teammate. Blow after blow they rain down on the enemy, each to the best of their abilities, and soon enough he is on his knees before them. Itachi pulls back his kunai for the final blow, the one that will kill, when the man raises his head to meet Itachi's gaze. And the genin hesitates.

It is all the time needed to drive a knife into Itachi's unprotected stomach with lightning speed, too fast for even him to evade. He gasps, and then Sakura is there and the man isn't anymore, and her soft hands are on his shoulders, his neck, his face as she lowers him to the ground.

"Careful there, Itachi-kun," she says with a smile. Her eyes are sad. He can only stare at her as she removes the knife - it hurts like hell - and places her glowing hands on top of his stomach.  
There is a speck of blood on her cheek, Itachi notes idly. "Sensei, he's gonna be okay, right?" Tetsuo asks nervously. "This is all my fault," Mamoru whispers somewhere to his left. "If I had been able to fight them off on my own -"

Sakura looks up for a moment, and all he can see is the smooth line of her neck and jaw. "Both of you, be quiet. You're genin. You make mistakes, and you learn from them. That's the way it's supposed to be." She smiles a bit. "Leave it to your sensei to save the day. That's what we're here for."

They all lapse into silence after that and gradually the pain in Itachi's stomach disappears. Soon enough Sakura guides him into a sitting position, tugging his shirt back down. "It's going to scar," she informs him calmly. "But it shouldn't be too bad. Try not to put any strain on it, okay? You'll be as good as new within the week."

Only when he gets home does Itachi chance a peek at his stomach. The skin around the wound is smooth and pale as usual with no signs of inflammation. Where the knife has broken it he can see an angry red line that stings when he prods it carefully. He thinks of Sakura-sensei and her sad eyes and the gentle touch of her hands, and he frowns. Why is she a shinobi if clearly she doesn't enjoy violence?

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm still tinkering around with the wording and everything, so don't be confused if there are a couple changes in this one. Chapters are getting longer, whoop! But don't get your hopes up. There still will be a fair amount of short ones.

 **word count:** 709


	14. Perseverance

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **perseverance**

* * *

The next time their team meats up for training, Mamoru surprises them all with his announcement. "I want to become a medic."

They all look at him for a moment, then Sakura smiles. "Alright then," she says. "I'll teach you a basic jutsu today you can use to heal some scrapes." They soon discover that the techniques their sensei performs so easily are actually quite hard to do - even Itachi is struggling. While they sit and try to mould their chakra, Sakura leans with her back against a tree and lectures them about all the different things they need to consider. She also warns them not to try and heal anyone else just yet. "If you don't know how to negate the effects of your chakra merging with someone else's, you'll end up doing more damage than good. It'll send their system into overdrive, speeding up adrenaline production and the blood flow. It generally leads to huge amounts of blood loss and poisons spreading even faster."

Tetsuo is the first to cave. "I give up," he proclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. "I don't think medic is the right path for me."  
"Very well," Sakura nods. "In that case, four laps around the village. Then come back here for your next exercise." The genin gives her a thumbs up and takes off in a flash.

Soon after Itachi rises from where he is sitting on the ground and shakes out his stiff limbs. "Not your cup of tea, either?" Sakura smiles when she sees his consternated expression. "I will try again tonight," he replies. "Alright then. See if you can catch up with Tetsuo-kun, ne?"

By the time they both get back to the training grounds, Mamoru still has not given up. Itachi can't help but acknowledge his persistence. "That's enough for today, Mamoru-kun," Sakura orders when he and Tetsuo grind to a screeching halt next to them. When she sees the genin frown, she smiles. "If you want to, we can go for tea after training and I'll explain a bit more to you. Right now, I want you to spar against Itachi. Watch how he moves, and afterwards tell me if he's more of an offensive or defensive combatant. Tetsuo, you're with me."

Despite the fact that Mamoru is anything but a challenge even if he's five years older, Itachi is patient, because even if he's a supposed prodigy, he doesn't really feel like being Sakura-sensei's punching bag. "You really have to give it to Tetsuo," Mamoru observes when they take a quick break between two bouts and watch their comrade being thrown across the grounds time and again like a sack of sand. "He doesn't give up." "Hn," Itachi makes, observing the fight. "I'm not really sure he is familiar with the concept."

Mamoru smiles. "You're probably right," he says before sliding back into a somewhat sloppy battle stance. As often, Itachi once again wonders what exactly Sakura-sensei wants him to learn from them.

He still doesn't see it.

* * *

 **A/N:** It's been a while, hm? I think I'll continue to work on this. So if any of you guys are still along for the ride, I hope you enjoy sporadic updates.

I currently don't have anything to do because I handed in my bachelor thesis, and have a loooot of free time on my hands, which I use to work ahead on this story and my **twenty minutes** (NejiSaku, if anybody's interested).  
I'm sorry the chapters are always so short, but it helps me focus. I tend to get sidetracked a lot and lose my motivation easily, so keeping it short and sweet is what helps me to keep the ball rolling.

Lots of love,

planless

 **word count** : 508


	15. The Saint

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **the saint**

* * *

They loose Mamoru in a fight that should have been so easy to master it leaves Itachi crying for justice, eyes bleeding red for the first time in his life.

They are on their way back from Uzushiogakure, to deliver some higher ranking treaties concerning trade between the villages. Despite the close ties between the Uzumaki and Konohagakure, prices have to constantly be re-negotiated, orders fulfilled, and contracts settled. The road is therefore a well-travelled one. It should have been easy, a mere drop-off and then they were on their way home, except –

They appear seemingly out of thin air, a whizz of sulfur and heat and the smell of black powder, their cloaking jutsu so supremely executed not even their sensei catches on, and before either can react Mamoru, who's been lagging behind on account of a fight with Tetsuo, is nothing more than a heap of ashes slowly scattered by the wind.

Itachi loses himself then, a raging blur of knives and wildly spinning Sharingan, and he only comes to once every enemy lies dead. He doesn't know what has come over him. He _hates_ killing, with a passion but… these men, he hates more. His chest heaves and he feels like he's about to faint and Tetsuo's wails filter through the air. Numbly Itachi watches him kneel in front of the dark stain that was once Mamoru – Mamoru, who, for all his faults, was easily the best of them. Because he persevered, and he had a big heart, and he was not afraid to follow through on it. And now he is gone, wiped out from existence, and never again will he in that gentle manner of his temper Tetsuo's high spirits, or invite Itachi to tag along for tea, or beg their sensei to continue his medical training.

And as Tetsuo cries and curses and rages, all at once, and pulls a charred and blackened metal ring from the heap of ashes and clutches it so tightly in one fist blood begins to seep out from between his fingers, Itachi finds himself engulfed in the gentle embrace of his sensei. He melts into her touch – _so very unprofessional_ – and hides his face in the crook of her neck because his eyes are burning from the strain of battle and he desperately wants to shut out Tetsuo's ugly crying and she smells of green tea and blood and he has just lost someone he considers a friend.

He's only ten. He's allowed to be a child, sometimes.

* * *

 **A/N:** hello, lovelies!

Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter! I'm glad to see some people are happy to see this continued. Your continued support means a lot.

 **Mirmiru** , don't worry about updates! I plan on posting a new chapter every Friday from here on.

Lots of love,

planless


	16. wilful

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **wilful**

* * *

He's eleven when he and Tetsuo are promoted to chunin.

They have not taken the exams. Instead, the hokage informs them of their new rank after a mission report, congratulates them, and his assistant hands them their brand new flak jackets. Itachi feels swamped in the heavy material, the bulk of the garment throwing off his small body's balance.

"We were supposed to advance together," Tetsuo spits once they have left the hokage tower. The two metal rings that lie against his sternum clink together softly as he tosses his head. "Mamoru was supposed to be with us. We are a team!"

Their sensei doesn't say anything.

"How is this fair?" Tetsuo snaps, at the both of them but also at no-one in particular, because they all know the answer to the question.

"It isn't," Itachi offers softly. "It is simply life."

"If this is life, it's not doing a very fine job at being good," Tetsuo hisses. "I'm going to make sure it gets better for everyone. Trust me."

With that he whirls and stomps off, fury rolling off of him in waves. Itachi turns to his sensei who is looking after him, eyes filled with some sort of longing that has him wonder once again what Tetsuo is to her.

It must be something more, he decides, than the wilful child he sees when he turns to watch his teammate tromp away.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you guys so much for your reviews! Seriously. Even just a single word or line makes me happy.

Lots of love!  
planless


	17. worthy

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **worthy**

* * *

Their first A-rank is an infiltration mission that is bound to go south because Itachi doesn't trust the replacement for Mamoru.

Itame is his name, and he is a tall and lanky guy who lumbers more than he walks and looks like his parents handed him the short end of the intelligence-stick. When Itachi voices his concerns to Sakura in a private moment, she whacks him over the back of the head none too gently and frowns.

"Don't go disregarding others like that," she admonishes. "You're too caught up in your own to realise the worth others carry. It's one of your biggest flaws."

He tenses up at that, because her phrasing implicates that he has more flaws than just the one. Suddenly, he wonders if the picture people paint of him, the one of prodigy and genius, is true, or if they have at one point forgotten about the other Itachi - the one he used to be.  
And then he frowns and thinks that maybe even he has forgotten about the other one - that maybe he's given himself up to the wishes and expectations of others.

"You're a sweet kid, Itachi," Sakura murmurs, pulling him back to the present. "I can see the gears in your head turning."  
Then she wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead and for a moment, his head is cradled against the crook of her neck and he feels safe.

When she walks away from him, he stares after her retreating back, cheeks burning.

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy Friday!  
I hope you had a good week :)  
As always, thank you for your reviews. See you next time!  
Lots of love,

planless


	18. the best

**and the scarry skies above**

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 **the best**

* * *

Itachi is eleven when he realises just how broken their sensei really is. Through all the years he's known her, she has almost never shed the sunny disposition that always belies the sorrow of her eyes. She is quick to anger and even easier to please, a ready smile on her lips and witty quip on her tongue at all times. In Itachi's eyes, the sheer wisdom she exudes makes her nothing short of perfect, and he wonders if she could ever be bothered to step up and become hokage. He can't think of anyone better suited for the position. So when, for the first and only time throughout their many years together, she completely and utterly loses it, all he can do is stand at the sidelines, _useless_ , and take in the carnage her fists wreak.

Their task is not an easy one, but neither is it difficult. Dangerous, rather. Negotiations with rogue shinobi always are.

There is always the possibility of it being a trap, which is why it is them who have been assigned this mission: apparently, their sensei is famous for her stubborn tenacity to bring her teams home in one peace. It makes her uniquely suited for situations that can blow up at any given moment.

Only it is not the situation that blows up but rather Sakura.

One moment she is talking to one of the shinobi, his dark cloak with the red clouds on it a stark contrast against the snowy country that is their meeting point. The next, her hand is around his throat. " _What?_ " she presses out from between clenched teeth.

Itachi crouches, worry coiling in his stomach, sharingan spinning wildly. Next to him, he feels Tetsuo and Itame tense, ready to spring into action.

"Konoha's pitiful attempt at a jinchuriki has failed years ago. We have long since extracted the beast from its useless host. He was –"

The man's head pops off his shoulders, long orange ponytail trailing through the air as his throat is crushed in Sakura's fist. A punch to the chest obliterates his torso, turns it into a squelching mass of blood and splintered bones and organs.

Before any of them can react, the other five are flying at her, giant animals trailing in their wake, and between them and Sakura's blind rage it would be suicide to enter the battle so Itachi holds back his teammates as he tries to track his sensei, bottom lip worried between his teeth. He had no idea she could be so _fast_.

Something else seeps into his heart at the sight of the slaughter taking place in front of him, something that clashes sharply with the quiet adoration of younger years. Fear. It slithers around his chest and squeezes, tighter and tighter with every crack of bone, dry and so very brittle, every pop of a head against stone, every wet squelch as limbs are pulled from sockets and flung aside mindlessly.

The creature before him is not his sensei, so kind and wise and understanding and always willing to share her dango, but an animal whose only instinct is to kill, kill, kill, fangs bared and hateful face streaked with inky black lines that he's never seen before.

When the dust settles and the tremors subside, nothing is left of the six orange haired shinobi but fragments of bones, a few stray limbs, slabs of meat and blood smeared against upturned boulders.

"You killed him, you killed him, you killed _them_ ," whispers in a broken litany through the air. Taking carefully controlled breaths to keep from losing his breakfast, Itachi steps on the battlefield. He picks his way between the fissures in the ground, gingerly steps around a loose arm that is half buried in the snow.

He touches her shoulder cautiously, and her eyes lift up to meet his, and suddenly they appear so very, very old. "He was the best," she whispers in a raw voice even as the black lines that cover her body fade and tears begin to pour forth, and keels over into his arms.

She is heavier than she looks and despite the fact that he is a supposed prodigy, Itachi is still only eleven. He leaves the task of carrying their sensei to Itame and Tetsuo, who take turns in heaving her onto their backs, while he flits around them and secures the perimeter and makes sure there are no nasty surprises as they slowly move in the direction of home.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey there! Sorry for being missing an update (or did I miss two? I can't remember), but life's been crazy busy. But I've got it all under control now.

I hope you had a good week!  
Lots of love,

planless


	19. indebted

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **indebted**

* * *

He's twelve when he finally, _finally_ , gathers up the courage to ask his father about his sensei's past. Fugaku blinks, not having expected the question. Pushing aside ledgers and scrolls and brushes that cover his writing desk in an uncharacteristically haphazard manner, he leans back, eyes trained on his son.

"There is really much more to it than this," he begins thoughtfully. "But when it comes down to it, she is the only living member of her genin team." Itachi frowns as he climbs onto the chair opposite his father. "What happened?" he asks. Fugaku tilts his head. "War did. One of her teammates simply disappeared. Eventually the others left to find him."

"Was he the jinchuriki?" Itachi asks and his father chuckles, a dry sound that speaks of resignation. "I really shouldn't be surprised. I needn't stress this is confidential information –" He slants a gaze at his son who nods. " – but yes. He was the host of the Kyubi. He was like a brother to her. As were the other two."  
"Why didn't she go with them?"

Fugaku sighs with all the finality of confession. "Ah. That would have been partially my fault. After the war ended… There were so many casualties. She was needed. Here. Not gallivanting through the countryside. The elders and hokage-sama ordered her to stay, but I–" He hesitates, then meets his sons gaze. "She was all packed up and ready to go after them. She was already through the gates. And I – I begged her. She healed Shisui and many others. Stayed. And while we kept her here to bring back our people from the brink of death, her team just – died."

Itachi folds his arms around his chest, uncomfortable with the mere idea of sitting idle while his family is in danger. Wonders what it must have done for her. "She is not the only medic this village has."

"True. But she is the best. Your cousin would not have survived without her help, and neither would half of our jonin. This village owes her a great debt, one that I am not sure can ever be repaid."

"Were the bodies recovered?"

"Yes," Fugaku says, eyes lidded and gaze far away. He is playing with one of the brushes scattered across his desk. "I took a team to go after them as soon as I could. We weren't fast enough to aid, but –" He pauses. "I kept her from standing by them. The least I could do was bring them back to her."

"They might have survived if she had been with them. She would have brought them home."

"Perhaps," Fugaku allows quietly. "But just as well she might have died alongside them. I saw the bodies. Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Sasuke were supposed to be nigh invincible. And yet…" He trails off.

Itachi struggles against the lump in his throat. "She is very strong. She took down six S-class shinobi all by herself."  
"Yes, she has grown a lot since then."

"The jinchuriki?"  
"Never recovered."

"One of the shinobi she killed talked to her about him. He said they had extracted the beast from the host."

Fugaku is silent for a while.

"Yes," he says then. "That would have about done it. He always bounced back up after a fall, but – not even Naruto could have survived a procedure like that."

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm sick in bed and almost forgot to update. Sick days are the worst.

Hope you all had a good week!

Thank you lovely reviewers for your feedback.  
Lots of love,

planless


	20. every step

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **every step**

* * *

It is raining on the day Itachi turns thirteen.

He's never really given much emphasis to his birthday – just a day like any other – but even he is a bit miffed that he has to spend it like this. Covered in mud, soaked from head to toe, lost in the middle of some ugly swamp. He's shivering in spite of the fire, so Sakura lends him her cloak.

It is warm and soft and smells of green tea and herbs and is so uniquely her that he instinctively curls deeper into its woolly folds.

"Aren't you going to be cold?" he asks and she smiles.

"Nah, I'm fine. I've been through worse."  
Itachi's eyes flicker down to her bare hands and the scars that curl over her knuckles like webs of broken glass. She huffs, seemingly amused, and pokes his cheek.  
"Don't you worry your pretty little head."  
He ducks down, trying to hide the embarrassed flush of his face.

"Still," he mumbles stubbornly, and tosses the cloak back at her. Immediately, he misses its warmth.

After they shove it back and forth for a while, both too stubborn to relent, Itachi – he's not quite sure how – ends up curled against his sensei's side, her cloak wrapped around the both of them.  
His cheeks are hot for different reasons now.

"You know," she says after a while in which the only sounds are the merrily crackling fire and pouring rain outside their shelter, "sometimes I forget how young you are."

Itachi opens his eyes sleepily, indignation already curling in his chest, but she gently pats the crown of his head before tucking him more securely against her.

"You're still so small."

"I won't be forever," he protests quietly. She bumps him with her chin.  
"Right now you are, midget. You might be a talented kid, but you're still a kid." Her voice drops into a murmur. "Enjoy it while you can."

Too tired to protest, Itachi curls deeper into the warmth of the cloak.

"Will you be with me?" he asks, the words tumbling out before he can stop them because she's so strong but her arm around him so gentle and because she smells nice and homey, and because they are in the middle of nowhere in a leech infested bog and it's raining and it's his birthday and despite his unwavering faith in his sensei he has no idea where they are and is scared what will happen if they never find back home again.

"'Course I will," she says. Squeezes his shoulder, ever so confident. "Every step of the way."

 _A promise of a lifetime_ , he thinks as he drifts off to sleep. He doesn't really expect it to happen, because they are shinobi, but he sure wishes Sakura-sensei will be around forever.

It's a pretty dream, at least.

* * *

 **A/N:** Rereading your guys' feedback for chapter 19 made smile a lot just now. So far, it's the chapter with the most reviews, and you seem to have enjoyed it at least as much as I did writing it. Especially the comments from **Louchette** and **outrageoussmile** made me really happy! Thank all of you so much! Also, thanks a ton for your well-wishes. I'm all better now, but still as easily distracted as ever, which is why I almost forgot to update. Almost. Ah well, I'm sure it's still Friday someplace in the world.

I hope you have a pleasant week!  
Lots of love,

planless


	21. the stubborn ones

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **the stubborn ones**

* * *

The dream lasts all of a year.

"I'm not going to grow any older than sixty-five, anyways," Sakura shrugs and breaks her chopsticks. "No reason to make a big fuss over it."

"Why do you say that, sensei?" Itame asks, brown doe-eyes round with worry. Tetsuo emerges from the depths of his ramen bowl to listen intently. Itachi's heart drops into his stomach.

Their sensei chews, swallows, shrugs again. "There's a jutsu I sometimes use, when I have to. Creation Rebirth. It keeps me on my feet, but shears a couple months off my lifespan in exchange."  
She's about to dive back into her dinner when she sees the stricken expressions of her students.  
"Come now. Why the long faces? I don't really mind," she assures them. "I don't expect to die of old age. I'll probably work myself to death over a patient."

Itachi thinks this is not so unlikely. Still.

After dinner, when the group is about to break up, they hang around for a moment longer.

"Sensei," Tetsuo says. "Please don't use that jutsu anymore." Sakura stretches up to ruffle his hair and bop him on the nose.

"And here I thought Itame was the dreamer between the tree of you."

When her attempt at humour comes to nothing, she holds up her hands. "I can't promise. You guys know I would do anything to keep you safe. But I'll try. If there's another way, I'll try."

"You shouldn't put your life on the line for us," Itame protests. "It's not right."

"I'm your sensei," she says, rolls her eyes, cuffs him under the chin. "That's literally my job."

"But you're so… so… you're so good!" he blurts out. Sakura sighs and sends him a gentle smile. "I'm really anything but, dear. I'm tired, is what I am. Now, run along. This old lady needs to get her brittle bones to bed."  
"You're only twenty-seven," Tetsuo grouses, but he gives them all a nod and turns and walks down the street. The metal rings against his chest clink with every movement.

Itame follows after a moments hesitation.

Itachi grasps the sleeve of her shirt and looks up at her.

"Every step of the way," he intones, eyes hard and unyielding. Sakura tries to hide her smile behind a hand. "Oh my. It looks like I've been saddled with the stubborn ones."

He frowns. "You promised."

Her gaze softens. "That I did. And I will try my best, Itachi. But there will come a time where you don't need me anymore. Hell, you hardly need me as it is. I won't be your sensei for much longer, you know. They are looking to making you jonin, and soon enough you'll be stuck with your own bunch of rowdy tagalongs, and then what."

He stares up at her and says sternly, "I would ask you for advice."

She sighs and drags a hand through her hair.

Huffs.

"What a piece of work you are."

"You promised," he insists, gripping her sleeve more firmly.

"Every step of the way."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you guys so much for your kind reviews, they really mean a lot to me.

 **outrageoussmile** , you are the absolute cutest! *fangirls right back* Your reviews are always so thoughtful and nice, I can't help but smile. Thanks for that! :)

Also a little shoutout to **I'mAlsoAWe** ; you've been with this story from pretty much the beginning, and your continued interest in it makes me really happy and motivates me to keep it going! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Love you guys, and I hope you all have a good weekend!

Lots of love,

planless


	22. missing

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **missing**

* * *

He makes jonin before he even turns fifteen.

ANBU follows close on its heels. His mother frowns, but says nothing.

Eventually, she tells him over a quiet dinner that they were looking to advance him years ago but a Sakura-shaped wrench in their plans effectively barred any talk of promotion.  
Fugaku joins them at the table. It's been good of Sakura to go toe-to-toe with the council, keep him out of hot waters for a while longer. But now, fence month is over, son.

As Itachi hurries from one assignment to the next, carrying out every single one of them with impeccable skill and stellar results and a reluctant heart, he sees less and less of his old team.

Tetsuo, sometimes, because his loud-mouthed friend has made jonin.

Itame, less. He's often on guard duty these days, under the tutelage of Kotetsu and Izumo.  
Itachi never uses the gate – his missions rarely appear on paper.

His sensei, almost never.

They manage to squeeze in the odd sparring session every now and then, but most of the time she sends him home before they can get any real work done because he's tired and slumped and dragging his feet and she refuses to fight him when he should be recovering instead.

He's running himself ragged, he knows: not because he'd ever admit it to himself, but because the worry etched into her frown deepens every time they meet.

Itachi doesn't know what to do.

He misses the old days, misses the clipped but manageable pacing of their missions.

Most of all, he misses her.  
Misses _them_.  
Her steady presence at his side served to keep him grounded. He never realised how much until he's finally standing on his own.

But now the ground beneath his feet is shaky, and ever so difficult to navigate without her.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for all your feedback on the last chapter! You guys all seem to really appreciate the relationship between Itachi and Sakura. I'm a fan as well, but then again I also know where this story is going. This is just a quick reminder for you guys that we'll be leaving childhood and innocence behind us in a very few chapters, which actually has me thinking about upping the rating from **T** to **M**. Please keep in mind that this story is marked **[ItaSaku]**. Just so that there are no nasty surprises for anyone. That being sad, I'm not a big fan of lemons, and neither of underage sex or anything similar. So while I probably will change the rating, this story will in no case deteriorate into a tasteless smut-fest. If you've read any of my more recent stories that would probably give you some idea of what to expect. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and staying with this story!

Lots of love,

planless


	23. shames and aches

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **shames and aches**

* * *

He's sixteen when puberty hits, belated and hard. Where one day it was all chubby cheeks and soft skin, the next it is a breaking voice and aching bones. His first real growth spurt takes him up, up, up, until he's almost the same height as his sensei and they finally stand eye to eye without her having to bend down. He doesn't have to climb the cupboards anymore if he wants sweets. It also brings something else – something Sakura likes to call hormones, and refers to whenever he snaps at one of his friends or stares after a girl passing by. She likes to tease him about it, and laughs at him, but what she doesn't know is that he's comparing her to all of them and he finds them lacking. They don't have the same vibrant hair or eyes, nor the same alabaster skin. They lack her strength and iron will, her intellect and sharp tongue. Most importantly, they don't have her arms – covered in scars that shimmer in the moonlight. He wants to know how far those marks extend, and when he's alone with his thoughts at night, tired beyond belief and alone and dreading yet another morning, he can't help but think of her and he suddenly _wants her_ so bad it hurts. He pulls the pillow over his head and fears to die of shame.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm so sorry I missed last week's update (and this week's as well). But life has been so hectic. I thought turbulent weeks would turn out to be the exception, not the rule, but alas that seems to be untrue. I'm hustling from one event into the next. Woe poor introvert me. Whatever happened to the good old times where I wouldn't have any appointments for weeks on end?

I hope you have a good weekend; thanks for your insightful reviews on the last chapter.

Lots of love!

planless


	24. secrets

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **secrets**

* * *

His mother notices.  
Of course she does. Her eyes might not be born of Uchiha blood, but they are sharp nevertheless.

"It is time for you to consider marriage, don't you think?" she asks, the innocent question and kind smile offset by the way her gaze is fixed on his face. Warm, but alert. Itachi takes a sip of his tea, stalling for time as he wills his body not to tense.  
"I do not agree just now would be the right moment," he says eventually.  
Mikoto inclines her head, accepting his words. "Still," she replies. "The elders are pushing for you to get settled. Shisui as well. They wish to see the younger generation well settled. I did not say –" She holds up her hand, cutting off the reply that is ready to spill from his lips. " – that you have to marry straight away. I merely suggest you think about it. Your grandparents will be pleased to know you are at least considering the possibility. And there are many suitable matches, both within and outside of the family."

Itachi shakes his head. "I'm not yet old enough."

"You're seventeen," Mikoto replies easily. "Almost the age your father was when he married me."

He hesitates, unable to find fault with her statement. "Still," he hedges. Takes a moment to pour them both more tea. Plays for time.

"I have never known you to be anything less than willing to act in the clan's interests," his mother muses, and he straightens up to meet her eyes evenly.

"My first loyalty is to Konoha and its people." "And yet you never fail to consider the wishes of your family. How is marriage so different?"  
At this point, Itachi knows she is trying to drive him into a corner. His mother is never so blunt in her diplomacy unless she is pushing for something specific. He has to bodily fight the impulse to cross his arms and snap, _it just is_. Instead, he takes a calming breath in an attempt to centre himself.

"I do not see how it would be a sensible decision at this time. I spend most of my days outside the village. Just now, I cannot possibly pay a wife the attention she deserves."

Mikoto tilts her head to the side. "So you're declining marriage on the grounds that you could not make her happy? How considerate of you. But I am sure we could find someone who'd be amenable to your situation."  
Itachi sets down his cup, harder than intended. "I will not marry someone merely out of convenience. I will not tie anybody to a lifetime of neglect. I am willing to discuss this matter with the elders once I deem the circumstances favourable. Before that, however –"

"Who is she?" Mikoto interrupts, leaning across the table. "Who are you stalling for?"

He opens his mouth, closes it. Unbidden, an image springs up in his mind. His cheeks burn red with shame and fury at being caught. His mother leans back with a satisfied expression on her face.

"I am glad to see you still have some fight left in you." She rises, crosses over to his side of the table, and presses a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, just like she always did when he was still a child. "Sometimes, I'm afraid to lose you. You've already given so much to the village and your family – I wish for you to follow your heart at least this once."

Before Itachi can reply, she's already stepped back and turned to gather up their china.

"Mother," he blurts out after her when she's almost through the door. She looks at him over her shoulder. Itachi swallows against the lump in his throat.

"You must know who she is, surely."

Mikoto's eyes are wide and innocent as she replies, "I don't know what you mean," but her smile is equal parts knowing and kind. Secretive.

And suddenly, the burden is a bit easier to carry.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm always so pleased when you guys write that you were disappointed in the length of a chapter in the beginning but that the content managed to convince you otherwise. I try to make them as good as I possibly be can, but there are days when I'm simply not feeling myself so the quality suffers a bit. I won't tell you which ones, but in general it seems we are of one mind which chapters are good and which are mediocre at best. Thank you guys so much for your reviews!

I wish you a happy Christmas, if you celebrate it, and if you don't then I hope you'll have a lovely weekend and good following week.

Love you guys lots!

planless


	25. surrender everything

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **surrender everything**

* * *

By the time Itachi is eighteen, he's out of puberty.

The aching joints are gone, leaving behind a lean body that is as strong as it is flexible.

He's matured in more ways than one.  
His infatuation with his teacher, while previously filling him with shame, has blossomed into full-blown desire and he wants her _so. fucking. bad._

In the rare moments they lie next to each other on missions, each in their separate sleeping bag, he sometimes wonders how easy it would be to just roll over and pin her beneath him. Too bad she'd thrash his arse for even thinking such a thing. Until, one day, she doesn't.

That one day, he's got her bent over on the training field, arm twisted brutally, and something digging into her back which he hopes she thinks is a kunai but definitely isn't. She's panting hard, chest pushing back against his with every breath, and for a moment he's distracted.

The next second, the back of her head connects with his jaw with such force his neck cranes back. She follows it up with a spinning kick delivered to his ribs that has him hurtling through the air, pain exploding behind his eyes, and then he's lying there, the soft summer grass warming his shoulders. She's straddling him, holding him down with years of expertise and the weight of her gaze alone – she's so small, he could push her off so easily and bury her beneath him if it wasn't for the iron grip she has on his neck. Chakra is tingling at her fingertips and he knows: one wrong move and she'll crush his throat. He knows his sensei, he's seen her do it before.

And so he lies there, his aching body communicating surrender even as his eyes plead silently – for what, he doesn't know.

* * *

 **A/N:** What is this? An update? On a day that's not Friday? Ahead of schedule? Yes yes yes. Since this is a super short chapter and the last one was kind of mellow, I thought you guys might appreciate something a bit more ... I don't know, _zing_. Also, it's a holiday for me, so this is kind of my Christmas gift to you. Because you guys always write such kind reviews and always manage to make me smile, even if I'm having a bad day. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to drop a line. I really appreciate it!

I know the chapters are a bit short at the moment, but they'll get longer again, so please bear with me.

To answer **TeenageCrisis'** question as to the age gap: it's actually addressed in the story. In chapter 21 Tetsuo points out that Sakura is only 27. With Itachi being around 14 at the time, that would bring the agegap up to roundabout 13 years. I thought about making it less, since even I thought that was a bit much, but turns out I actually stayed relatively canon with the age difference. Kurenai, who's been mentioned to be the youngest of the jonin to be assigned a team in Season 1 (I think so, anyways), is around 27. The age difference to Hinata, Kiba and Shino would be about 15 years.  
And now I just realised that I made a huge error in calculating all this, because while I was like 'Ah, 13 years age difference between teacher and student isn't too bad, seems kind of realistic, right?' I all but forgot about the fact that Itachi is a lot younger than his teammates. They would be around 12 by the time their team is formed, making them a mere 9 years younger than Sakura. Oops.  
Let's just pretend she was assigned a team early on, since she's the apprentice of the legendary Tsunade. *scratches head guiltily*. Thanks, TeenageCrisis, for making me feel completely dumb^^. Still, I hope I managed to clear some things up. (Also, I guess Fugaku would be around 35-38, with Mikoto being five years younger, according to narutopedia.)

Thank you very much for your nice review, **Louchette** , your comments are always super kind and encouraging.

And thank you to all the others who reviewed! Merry Christmas!  
(Also sorry for the ridiculously long A/N. As someone pointed out in an earlier review: My notes are just as long as my story. Damn, man.)

Lots of love,

planless


	26. housecalls

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **housecalls**

* * *

The first time she invites him back to her apartment is not at all how he imagined it, and yet undeniably her.

"Follow me, quick," she orders, striding through Konoha's main gate down the road. He follows in a blind daze, and where usually he would have no trouble keeping up with her shorter step, right now he gets the distinct feeling that she is slowing down for him. "I have an antidote at home."

Itachi's not surprised. She's a medic through and through. She's also paranoid and likes to be over-prepared.

As he struggles to stay alert, to drive the foggy feeling from his mind, he doesn't notice the streets they pass through. He knows them, intimately so, but there is no time just now to take note of the shop fronts they pass, or how they turn into quaint little houses once they turn off the main road only a few yards from the gate. He doesn't notice the benches and trees and flowerpots lining these alleys, or the civilians milling about. All he sees is her back, deceptively slim and seemingly slipping further and further away from him. Determined to keep up, he steps out, murmuring a slurred "Sorry" whenever he bumps into someone. But his eyes remain fixed on the back of her head, and his strides, uncoordinated as they are, are fuelled by the irrational fear of losing her, and soon the smudge of pink fills his entire vision and there is no room for anything else.

"Careful," she murmurs when he runs into her, not realising she stopped walking. Catching him by the shoulders, she easily steadies his swaying frame, and, looking up at him, frowns. "You're far worse than you should be after a dose like that," she says, and it sounds accusing despite the obvious concern on her face. "You've been skipping meals again, haven't you?"

The words are there, swirling around in his head: that reconnaissance missions always take their toll on him, that he always forgets to look out for himself while at the same time making sure his team is cared for, that leadership always eats away at him and that he feels sick and faint under the pressure to succeed despite his unfailing confidence that he _will_. That he misses her, every moment they spend apart, and it turns him morose and taciturn.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his tongue is heavy and no words come out. "You'd better sit down." She leads him through a short front yard, a sophisticated door, into the gloomy interior of a wood panelled foyer. The cool air is a relief on his burning skin, and up, up, up the winding staircase he follows, trusting the small hand grasping his to lead the way. He has no idea how long they climb, but eventually they stop on a landing and she lets go of him to open a door. He sways forward, catches himself on the doorframe, almost keels over by the time she wraps an arm around his middle and all but hauls him over the threshold. The last few steps she half-carries, half-drags him down the hallway.  
Folded over her shoulders and clinging to her frame weakly, she fills his mind entirely. Her hair tickles the side of his face. The smell of her skin lures him in, tempts him to close his eyes and simply surrender. Only the pressure of her fingers wrapped around his forearms keeps him awake. "Sensei…" he murmurs.

And then he's lowered down into soft cushions, and with a quiet "Wait here," she's gone and he's alone. Exhausted, he lets his eyes droop shut. Opens them again when a sharp sting registers on his thigh. Too tired to flinch, he only stares when her face appears above his and cool fingers curl over his cheeks.

"You'll be alright in a moment, okay? Just keep looking at me. Don't go to sleep just yet."

One of her hands settles on his chest and it's not long before a green glow flits along the lower edge of his vision. A weird tingling feeling seeps through him, very unlike the soothing way her healing chakra usually feels, and the longer he looks into her eyes, the clearer they seem to become. They sharpen and slide into focus, and by the time he can accurately pinpoint her expression as fond annoyance, the fog clouding his mind is gone entirely.

"I –" he begins, stops, licks his dry lips. "I'm sorry." She seems surprised. Laying a hand against his forehead, she frowns, checks his eyes, places her hands on either side of his head to run a quick scan. Then she sits back with a snort. "You don't have a fever, and you're not concussed. Why on earth are you apologising?"

"For …" _For not taking better care of myself. For getting injured. For making you worry. For everything else._ "For troubling you." Sakura blinks at him, then rolls her eyes. "Yes, of course. Because you're just _so much trouble_. Seriously, Itachi. I wish you would trouble me more." She runs a gentle hand over the top of his head. "Sometimes I feel you're neglecting your own health. Now, how are you feeling? Any better?"

"Much," he replies honestly, and moves to sit up. Her hand falls away. "Was I poisoned?"

"Not poisoned per se," she replies. "From what I gathered you were hit with a tranquilliser, combined with a mild allergic reaction, hence the fever. I gave you a shot for it and sped up your adrenaline production to burn everything off. You're good to go. I told your team to go ahead, they're probably waiting for you at the academy. You're lucky I ran into you at the gates, saved you a lot of hassle." Itachi hesitates. He doesn't want to leave.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he hedges timidly. She looks at him and something about the slope of her shoulders softens. "Would you like to stay for coffee?" she offers. His mouth is already opened to accept, despite the fact that he doesn't even _like_ coffee, when he stops. Sighs. "I would love to, but I am needed elsewhere. There is the mission debrief to be handled, the team to be dismissed, the report to be written up, …."

Sakura nods, and he can tell she's not surprised. "You can skip the customary medical check-up. I already scanned your entire system and besides some minor muscle strain you're fine." She glares at him sharply. "This is a _one-time_ only thing, Itachi. I'll handle the paperwork for you. Use the extra time to recuperate." He's ready to protest, a thousand things he needs to do already tumbling through his mind, but in a stern voice she adds, "That's an order."

He can't help but smile at this. "You know you don't outrank me anymore, right?" he teases and easily evades her fingers when she reaches out to flick his forehead. "You know I'm your overseeing medic and could have you taken off the roaster for weeks on end? Besides, I can still punt your sorry butt across the training field without breaking a sweat." Something stirs low in his abdomen as memories of their last training session flit through his mind.

"Perhaps," he murmurs, holding her gaze. "I'm up for a rematch any time you feel like it."

"I'm up for a rematch any time you're free," she snorts. "Seriously, you should make some time for your old sensei every once in a while. The other brats stop by at least once a week." He frowns at the unexpected sting of jealousy, wants to answer, but Sakura has already risen from the couch and crossed to the door of the living room. "You don't have to apologise, Itachi," she says gently over her shoulder. "I know you're very busy."

There is nothing left to say, taking in her apartment as he follows her to the front door. It feels weird, he thinks. Lived-in while at the same time … empty, for lack of a better word. Everything is where it should be, not a speck of dust in sight, and yet. The furniture is neatly arrayed, the chairs pushed in, dishes done. The books that line the walls are sorted by topic – general human anatomy, hereditary diseases, poisons, field medicine, and a thousand more. Nothing is out of place. Still there is no love lost in this place, he thinks. It is simply a space to lie your head down.

With a weird feeling of childish indignation, he decides that this style of living doesn't suit her.

"Now," she quips once they reach the door, and ushers him through. "Get lost. We both have things to do."

He looks at her, her green eyes that glimmer with fondness, and suddenly feels shy.

"You said the others stop by often…" he begins, then hesitates. Somehow, what he is about to say next feels like the most daunting mission he's ever undertaken, and when he speaks next the words tumble out in a breathless rush. "Perhaps I could take you up on that coffee some other time?"

Sakura smiles, stands on her tiptoes, flicks his nose. He lets her.

"Of course, Itachi. Whenever you like. My door is always open for you."

And then she disappears into the depths of her soulless apartment, and he rushes down four flights of spiralling staircase, all but flies over the roofs of Konoha until he touches down in front of the academy, and if his team notice a slight bounce in his step on their way to the hokage, they do not comment on it.

They have too much sense for that.

* * *

 **A/N:** Here's a longer chapter, to make up for all the short ones before. Thanks so much for your reviews! You all seem to have enjoyed the last one; I'm glad. It was the one I got the most feedback on, so far.

I hope you'll like this one as well!

Lots of love,

planless


	27. blindeye

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **blindeye**

* * *

He's nineteen when he first gathers the courage to seek out his sensei's apartment and take her up on her invitation.

Standing in front of her door, he hesitates, hand resting against the cool wood. He is a ninja of the highest caliber and faces death every day, and yet the mere thought of knocking has his nerves tingle with excitement and a reluctant sort of fear.

Itachi is nineteen when, staring at the door in front of him, he realises that what he wants from her, _needs_ , really, and what she is willing to give can never compare.

Can never _match_.

He is still nineteen, but feels older, more subdued, by the time the Kyubi attacks later that same day, its rampage swift and brutal as it claws its way through the village. Many are dead and more injured before any coherent plan of attack is formed. Itachi's team fall back for a breather and Sakura flits over, patches them up quickly. They are about to launch back into the fray when Shisui flickers into existence next to Itachi.

Danzo wants the Uchiha guarding the villagers.

So he goes with his cousin, ever the dutiful soldier, but he cannot help one last worried glance at his sensei. Equal parts pained and determined, her eyes flick from the raging monster back to him. "Go," she orders. "We'll be fine."

 _Every step of the way_ , he thinks.

He will hold her to her promise.

With a heavy heart and fearing for her life, he leaves. Returns hours later to find her sobbing in another man's arms, and despite the fact that he is usually placid and hardly ever stirred to emotion, something ugly rears its head inside his chest.

"Ne, ne, Sakura-chan, you really don't have to cry! I'm fine, don't you see? I'm here, I'm here. I'm –" And then he breaks into tears as well and they cling to each other like drowning men amidst the rubble that once was Konoha's main square and Itachi can only stand and stare and turn away because this is not something he wants to see.

Ever.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you guys a lot for your reviews! I hope you all had a good start into 2020. Hehe, I'm so glad you like this story and feedback is always so positive! You guys are really cute and sweet about it. You always make me smile. Thank you for reviewing, and thanks to the guest reviewer from Mexico – I feel you. I always have a lump in my throat as well when rereading everything, but then again I am very partial as this is my precious baby... I'm so excited to show you guys where this is going!

On another note: aaaaaaargh, I'm running out of chapters. And theatre week is coming up and I probably won't have time to write more and I'm getting all hectic and flustered over here. I still have a couple pre-written, but to save myself some trouble I'll probably bang out some more tonight and fix them up as I go along – I'm feeling inspired. I also do kind of have an idea for another ShisuixSakura bouncing about in my head (if you're into that, you might want to read **rosegold**. Not the story I'm most proud of, but it was fun too write. I'm also kind of itching to re-write **colder spots** , because while I was super proud of it while I was uploading, now I see so many things wrong with it… You live and grow, I suppose. I also highly suspect that by the time I am through with this story, I'll probably hate myself for it as well. But it can't be helped.

Happy update Friday!  
Lots of love,

planless


	28. when in ruins

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **when in ruins**

* * *

People are flocking together to clear away the debris and when Itachi looks up from his work to stretch his aching back there they are, seated next to each other and sharing her water bottle between them with such a casual air his lips twist into an ugly sneer. Seconds later, he checks himself. He really should know better.

Dropping what he's doing and ignoring the surprised look someone shoots him, he walks over.

"… and when I came to, it was all so dark and stuffy so I boxed my way out and I realised I was in a tree. A _tree_ , Sakura-chan! Full hermit mode! And my clothes were gone and the Kyubi, too, and it was all so confusing and I had no idea where I was… Turns out it was on a giant turtle! Can you believe it? I decided to come home, because where else would I go. And boy, am I glad I did! Even if Kurama got away. Man, it'll be a pain to bring him back, but we kind of have to, don't we?"

"Sensei," Itachi says, not caring that he's interrupting their conversation. They both look up at him, and despite the fact that her face is battered and scratched up and streaked with dirt his teacher's eyes are so full of genuine happiness that Itachi immediately feels ashamed of himself.

"Sensei?" the man asks with a lopsided grin. "Picked up a bunch of your own?" He eyes Itachi up and down.

Adds, "Looks an awful lot like the teme." Both their smiles dim, but Sakura nods. "Cousin, I think. Itachi?"

He jerks his head over his shoulder.

"You're needed."

She visibly hesitates. The man draws her in for a quick hug. "I'll still be here when you come back," he murmurs into her hair. She sniffles and clutches the back of his shirt like a lifeline.

"You'd better be."

She stands, dusts down her pants, pulls her hair into a ponytail. "See you later, Naruto."

Follows Itachi into the rubble.

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy update Friday! Thank you guys soooo much for all the feedback on the last chapter! That was the highest number of reviews this chapter has ever gotten! And audience interaction always means you're doing something right.

 **outrageoussmile** , yes! I like the shortest chapters best as well! Because I can break them down to the essential things which really matter, and make shifts in mood really jarring and surprising. I don't necessarily think the effect of that would be as great if I wrote more in those instances.

I loved all of your feedback! It always makes me so happy!

On another note, there won't be an update next week because I'll be stuck at the theatre all day, and the story between here and the next of my pre-written chapters needs to be a bit more fleshed out. And I'll have to write that first, sooo... But I already have so many ideas, so I hope it'll be worth the wait!

Tons of love you to lovely people out there!  
planless


	29. a-hunting we go

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **a-hunting we will go**

* * *

The feeling of a second presence in the room is what rouses him to consciousness, along with the soft hand that curls around his shoulder. He grasps at it reflexively, but his instinctive grip seems to lack its usual strength. Shortly after, his brain catches up to his reflexes, and even before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his bedroom, the scent of herbs and green tea registers on his mind.

He lets out a slow breath he didn't know he was holding. "Sensei," he says, running his thumb over the inside of her wrist to communicate there is no ill will. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry for waking you, Itachi," she whispers, volume kept to a bare minimum. Her breath ghosts over the side of his neck and sends a shiver down his spine. "But you need to come with me."

"Is it dangerous?" he asks, even as he slides out of bed and gropes for a change of clothing in the dark. The cool air washes over his bare chest and for a second he freezes. But then he glances over his shoulder at his sensei and decides that, if he cannot make out her in the dark, she won't be able to see anything either. The hesitation vanishes, replaced by an uncomfortable feeling of dread at her next words.

"It's confidential, at the very least," she breathes into the stillness as he slides on his jonin uniform. "I'm going against direct orders in being here, but I'll explain later. Come now, and hurry. You won't need your gear."

Even as he follows her to the window, his instincts scream at him. A shinobi without weapons is as good as dead, and even though he trusts his sensei with all his heart, he cannot help but slip a kunai into his sleeve just before he leaps onto the windowsill and out into the night. Down on ground level, Sakura is already waiting, and in the soft light of the moon he can make out her blurry form.

"We'll take the streets," she whispers, darts off. Nodding his understanding to himself, he follows. The night is clear, and their outlines would be visible from the rooftops. So instead, they slip through the deserted streets of the Uchiha district, streets that are not yet familiar and do not carry the feeling of _home_. Itachi doubts they ever will.

They slow to a stop when a guard passes by, slip into a shadowy niche to wait. For a moment, Sakura is pressed flush against his front, and memories of campfires and a shared blanket flood his mind. _Every step of the way_ , a distant memory echoes, and then she is gone, darting across the street behind the guard, taking with her the smell of green tea and herbs and the warmth. He follows close on her heel, lead by the low, barely discernible rustling of her clothing. In a matter of minutes, they have reached the outskirts of the district and take a moment to secure their position, before they scale the walls in perfect sync and drop down on the other side, noiseless as a pair of shadows.

From here, it takes them mere moments to glide across the road, around a corner, then another, and then they are picking up their pace, still no sound. "We are going to my apartment," Sakura tells him quietly, and something about the statement both soothes and agitates his nerves. At least now he has a destination, although the purpose behind it is still unclear.

With the pace they are setting, it takes them little under ten minutes to circle from the Uchiha district along Konoha's outer wall and into the civilian ward where her flat is located. In the pale light, the damage that still mars the village is glossed over and seems almost negligible. They enter through the heavy doors, dart up the staircase, and all the while Itachi's mind is whirring away, trying to discern the meaning behind all this. The meaning, as it turns out, opens the door for them once they reach her apartment. Itachi is not at all pleased to see Naruto Uzumaki greet his sensei with such familiarity, but there is a sombreness in his usually spunky behaviour that makes the nagging jealously less distracting, even as the man holds open the door for Itachi to pass through as though he lived here.

Which he does, Itachi understands a moment later. The realisation hits him like a punch to the face, but evidence is strewn around the apartment in undeniable piles of unfolded laundry, haphazardly rolled up scrolls, all kinds of weaponry, snack wrappers, paper in a startling display of someone feeling completely at home. At first, he wants to be angry at Naruto for inserting himself into his sensei's life with such a casual ease, but then he notices how the kitchen chairs are not pushed in all the way, how there are dishes piled in the sink, and how the books are still arranged by topic but crammed crookedly onto their shelves. And he surrenders.

"What is it you brought me here for?" he asks instead. They lead him into the living room, where Tetsuo is seemingly strapping on the last of his gear. He blinks when they enter, and the tanto slides into the sheath on his back with a soft hiss, locks with a click. The rings dangling around his neck jingle softly. "I thought they didn't want any Uchiha on this mission given what happened, and that it would be just the three of us," he says. "It is," Sakura answers. "I just …" She sighs, pushes a hand through her hair. "You two haven't seen each other in a while." Tetsuo throws Itachi a clinical glance. Concedes after a moment, "True enough."

"I'll go get my gear," Sakura murmurs when nobody seems willing to move. Places a warm hand on Itachi's shoulder before she slips from the room. Naruto follows after a moment's hesitation.

To say Itachi is confused would be an understatement. "I gather this mission is classified," he says. Tetsuo catches onto the implied question and rolls his eyes. "Yes. Leave it to sensei to go against the hokage's direct orders. Only she would." He huffs, eyes Itachi over. Something in his stance softens. "But then again it doesn't seem like you'll be coming along. So it's alright, I guess."

Itachi is brimming with curiosity, but knows better than to ask questions. This mission doesn't concern him, after all. Instead, casting around for something to say, he offers, "It was quite a surprise to have her wake me up in the middle of the night."

Tetsuo looks at him, then grins. "A surprise maybe, but not an unwelcome one, I'm sure." Something of the old mischief sparkles in his eyes as his mood visibly brightens, even as Itachi's insides clench and all of a sudden, he feels cold. "What a wild accusation. There is no reason for you to say something like that." His voice sounds hollow, even to him.

"Isn't there?" Tetsuo saunters over, taps his chin. "Well, at closer inspection I guess you're right. Unless…" He lets the words hang in the loaded silence for a moment, before laughing and boxing Itachi's arm. "Relax, Itachi. I won't tell. But seriously –" he grasps his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here. This mission is so hush-hush I didn't get to say goodbye to anybody. It kind of feels…" He trails off, eyes clouded in thought, and for the first time in years Itachi takes a moment to really look at his former teammate. He's matured, that's for sure. There are fine lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth, testament to his easy laugh. But there's a furrow carved across his brow as well, bearing witness to the many times the quick humour gave way to anger, displeasure, and a foul mood.

A walking contradiction. Itachi tries to remember when Tetsuo became that way.

His musings are interrupted when Tetsuo lets go and moves across the room to swipe something from the coffee table. "I need to ask you a favour," he says, and pushes four letters into Itachi's hands. "Please deliver these once the mission is over. The names are on the envelopes. I –" he's interrupted when the door swings open and Naruto enters, closely followed by Sakura, both decked out in Jonin gear.

"Tetsuo," she says as she pulls her hair back and begins a tight braid. "We're ready to move."

Something flashes through Tetsuo's eyes, something reminiscent of fear or hurt, but it is gone too quickly too identify. "Take care, Itachi," he says, grasps him by the shoulders once more. He looks him up and down for a second, then smiles. "You're a lousy friend, you know? You should keep in touch more."

He steps back as Naruto darts around the room, collecting loose brushes, ink pots, sheaves of paper, stores them all in his pack, and Sakura ties off her braid. With a quick motion, she throws Itachi a bundle of keys, and he, fingers still cramping around Tetsuo's letters, just barely manages to catch them. "Be a dear and lock up the place, will you?" she asks.

All three of them sidle up to the balcony, and with every step they take away from him, Itachi's confusion grows.  
"Alright," Tetsuo says, throwing open the door, completely oblivious to the heavy feeling of dread pooling in Itachi's stomach.

"Let's go a-hunting."

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh phew! It's been a hot minute, hasn't it? Thank you guys for sticking with me through my super irregular updating schedule! Speaking of sticking with me...

You guys pushed past 100 reviews! Thank you so much! I can't tell you how happy that makes me. I know theoretically speaking it's not a lot, but with my chapters being so short and everything, it really soothes my nerves to know that you guys like this story enough to leave a comment. Thank you so so much! You seriously are the best!

 **outrageoussmile** , I love my jealous Itachi! He's so much fun to write, because this emotion is entirely foreign to him, an he knows it! And oh boy, will there be a snapping... I've got that chapter already typed out. But perhaps not the kind you are expecting! That one is my favourite chapter so far. (coughcoughtwoweekscough)

 **Thefiskers** , thanks so much for your review! I'm always glad when people like the story despite the super short chapter! I am aware of the length, and try to make up for it by updating regularly, but oooh boy hasn't that worked out so far. But I'm slowly getting back on track, so I hope I'm not promising to much in announcing regular Friday updates from hereon.

And to all the rest of you lovely reviewers, well, having Naruto back is enough for now, I'd say. Wouldn't want to push Sakura's luck. And do not worry, my dears! Feelings will be confessed at some point, tears will be shed (most likely by me because I seriously love to torture myself), and relationships will be sorted out! I guess none of you are too familiar with my storytelling preferences, so I'll leave you to discover them for yourselves. But I am soooo looking forward to writing the rest of this story... man. I'm seriously hyped.

Tons of love and thank you all for your ongoing support!

planless

 _btw, do any of you read the chapter titles? They are usually related to the content of the story, and in some cases will give you a hint of what to expect (and sometimes they are just dumb references to my undying love of musicals). I'll just leave this here..._


	30. home

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **home**

* * *

He stays at the apartment for a long time. Looking out the window, watching as the stars fall and, one by one, the neighbourhood windows light up, heralding the dawn of a new day.

Tetsuo and Sakura do not return.

As the horizon tinges pink, he locks up the flat, circles down the staircase with slow steps, crosses through the impeccably neat but terribly mundane front yard out on the street. Throws a glance back, thinks he might one day like to have a yard like that. Tetsuo's letters weigh heavy in his fingers. Thoughts turning inward, he wanders the streets toward the city centre. People look at him strangely, turning away whenever he catches their eye. Perhaps they wonder about his lack of gear. Perhaps not. The latter seems more likely. At their glances, Itachi remembers, shakes his head because old habits die hard, turns around, drifts back through the side alleys and little nooks he took with Sakura the night before, until he's in front of the Uchiha district.

Behind, Konoha's walls carve across the sky – protective, admonishing. Watching.

Clutching the keys and paper to his chest, Itachi looks up at the high crest and wonders where he feels more at ease. Within or without? He's not so sure. His eyes fall to take in the walls fencing in the Uchiha district. _Definitely not here_. A smaller, more sophisticated version of the giant protective barrier. Less imposing. But also a lot more intimidating, somehow. At least to him. Giant Uchiha fans are painted on either side of the gate. One of them is cracked, as if something massive had been smashed against the concrete. He frowns.

The guards greet him with the respect due to a clan heir as he steps off the street. Neither of them meet his eye. One of his many aunts, juggling a basket of laundry on her hip, is out on the porch and bows as soon as she sees him. He turns a corner, runs into a great-uncle. The old man nods at him from where he is shuffling crates around behind his small stall that is wedged tightly in between two buildings, arranging and rearranging as if unsure where everything fits.

"I'll have some of your dango, please," Itachi says. Whether it is out of hunger or sympathy, he couldn't say. Immediately, his uncle hands him a skewer with his one good arm. Refuses payment. "Thank you." Itachi tries a small bite. "Still the best, as always." The older man inclines his head and smiles at the clumsy compliment, but his eyes are serious. "Thank you. Circumstances may change, but talent never wavers." Itachi nods, unsure of what to say.

Continues on through the district towards his home, nibbling on the dango, nodding at people who stop and bow.

Cradling Tetsuo's letters and Sakura's keys against his chest with his free hand, he wonders at how very distant everything seems today, and how very cold he feels in the shadow of these looming walls.

* * *

 **A/N:** I got mixed feedback on the last chapter; not in a bad way. It just seemed that some of you were confused as to what's going on. I won't tell, but I'm sure you'll figure everything out eventually, and then these will make more sense :) I hope...

Anyways! Thank you a lot for your reviews! You guys are always super kind!

And sorry this update is so late. But it's probably still Friday somewhere.

Lots of love,

planless


	31. into the dark

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **into the dark**

* * *

For the second time this week, it is the feeling of another presence in his room that rouses him to consciousness and puts his senses on high alert.

When a hand lands softly on his shoulder, he grasps it, turns his body violently. In a flurry of motion he slips out of bed, spins to avoid having his arm twisted, shrugs off an attempt at being pinned down. The short struggle ends abruptly, with strong fingers curled around both of Itachi's wrists, poised to break the fragile bones, and Itachi's kunai pressing against the throat of the other person, ready to cut.

"Trained you well," the low voice of Uzumaki Naruto rumbles through the silence.

Under the cover of darkness, Itachi scowls. "What are you doing here?" he asks instead, as cold as the metal resting unerringly against Naruto's jugular. The other man's hands fall away and he takes a step back, out of immediate reach. His sigh echoes heavily.

"I thought you might be the best person to fetch… It's Sakura."

Immediately, Itachi tenses even more. "What about her?"

There is no answer, merely a rustle of cloth that indicates Naruto is moving closer again. Itachi lets it happen. The soft clink of metal and then something cool and small is pushed into his free hand. His heart sinks.

"I'll be waiting outside."

Like a shadow Naruto slips through the window and Itachi is left alone in the dark, clutching a weapon in one hand and a necklace in the other.

Suddenly, he feels very, very tired.

When he touches down on the ground outside, fully dressed and armed, Naruto is waiting. In the pale light of the moon, his blue eyes almost seem to glow as if lit from within, and in them Itachi finds a level of concern and sadness that renders him unable to feel more than a slight twinge of resentment towards the man.  
"Thank you," Naruto says, low and earnest, and Itachi suppresses a shiver. There is something lurking behind these words, the lightest note of something strong, and dark. Something ancient. Up this close, for the first time he notes the faint thrum of chakra that emits from the other man, like an ocean rippling right beneath his skin. Quiet. Patient. Waiting. "Let's go."

Wordlessly, he follows, and they cut through the Uchiha district at a clipped pace. They don't take care to stick to the shadows, don't avoid the night watch when their paths cross. There is no reason to be stealthy today. The need for secrecy has died away.

On their way to the main gate, Naruto looks around, at the elegant houses and porches that still carry the smell of freshly cut wood. When his gaze meets Itachi's, his blue eyes are flashing. He shakes his head. "This is wrong," he mutters, continues down the streets. Itachi doesn't answer. There's nothing he can say.

Clouds roll in front of the moon, and for the longest time they follow the streetlights. Then they turn off the road, beneath a stained wooden arch, and navigate by memory alone until their eyes adapt.

By now, Itachi knows where they are going. The air smells loaded and heavy, carrying with it the promise of a storm.

Fitting, really.

Even against the darkened sky the cenotaph towers stark and foreboding, cutting up into the night like a black knife.

At this point, Naruto falls back. "Thank you," he murmurs before turning and walking away – retreating, more like. His gait is that of a soldier who knows he has lost, that there are no more battles left to fight that he can win – and Itachi thinks that the words sound just slightly bitter. He doesn't say anything, though. He's not quite sure how to continue from here, how he comes into play where Naruto fails, but Sakura's presence permeates the night like a heady perfume and soon becomes his one focal point.

Her laboured breaths, broken by voiceless sobs, meld into the distant grinding of thunder.

As he stands and listens and tries to pick the whirlwind in his mind for the right words to say – or any words, really – he is struck by the sudden realisation that he can count the people who truly care for him on one hand. He fiddles with the necklace. Flexes his fingers. Bends down one.

When he finally gathers the courage to approach, startled into action by a cold drop of water falling on his head, his movements are slow and he is dragging his feet. The clouds break open and for a moment he can see her clearly, huddled in front of the memorial stone, hair wild and spilling down her back in a rare moment of abandon. She looks smaller than he remembers.

He sits down next to her and doesn't say a word. The rain picks up.  
"His name's not even on the cenotaph yet," she whispers. "And yet I'm already here."

Heart heavy, Itachi stares at the blank piece of slate in front of them that, in a few days time, will carry the name of his friend. "Was it an accident?" he asks, because he somehow can't seem to stand _not knowing_.

"No," she answers, and sounds so broken he would have reached out for her if not for the cold dread settling in his stomach. "No, it was planned."

And when she tells him, about how they set out to hunt down the Kyubi, how Tetsuo had offered to use the Reaper Death Seal in order to restrain the Biju long enough for her to re-seal it into Naruto, and how she watched from the sidelines as Naruto sat next to him when he breathed his last, Itachi feels only a light twinge of despair. The pain seems dull and faded, like the pages of a book he has read far too many times in his life.

"The Sharingan could have held it, I'm sure," he says, more to drown out his confusing emotions than anything else.  
"They didn't want any Uchiha on this." "Why?" "They think it likely the fox was controlled by one of your clansmen when it attacked the village. They wouldn't let you near it."

Itachi closes his eyes, her words a confirmation to his suspicions when he has not even voiced his question yet. He asks it anyway, because he needs to hear it.

"Is that why the clan had to relocate?" "Yes."

He is silent for a moment, considering. Then, "Why not send a larger squad? Enough shinobi could have held it down." "There are too many eyes on Konoha just now. This needed to be done quiet, and it needed to be done quick, before somebody else got around to it. Three-man squads don't usually go after Biju. We chose the most efficient route."

Itachi frowns. This would be a proper moment to grieve, he thinks, and mourn the death of his friend. But there are too many questions, too many feelings, too much anger suddenly bubbling up inside him.

"You mean, it was chosen for you."

Sakura exhales, a long shaky sigh. "Yes."

"And Tetsuo volunteered."

"Yes." A pause. For a moment, all he hears is the rain dripping down around them and suddenly he's thirteen again, curled up against his sensei's side with all the trust in the world, and his only fear is never finding the path home again. In a way he finds, as he thinks back to the unfamiliar house he shares with his parents and cousin, the smell of freshly cut wood that still now wafts through the newly founded Uchiha district, and the modern houses being erected on his clan's former grounds, the child's fears have proven true to some extent.

Because how do you go about returning to a home when it no longer exists, is what he wants to know as he looks as Sakura from the corner of his eye, but the words taste like bile in his throat and so he plays it safe.

"Should you be telling me these things?" he asks instead.

"No. But honestly, right now I don't give a flying –" She stops, voice breaking, and curls in on herself, fists pressed against her eyes and face scrunched up in fury. "… _fuck_ ," she whispers, and it sounds so raw and broken Itachi cannot help but lean into her in a silent show of support. It is all he can bring himself to do, just now. Because he hurts at seeing her like this, torn open and bare, but what she told him tonight hurts even more. Her body is frigid, and the coolness of her skin seeps through his clothing.

She must have been sitting like this for a long time.

"You didn't cry when Mamoru died," he says after a while, latching onto the first thought he can that is not tinged with betrayal, resentment, bitterness.

"You don't need me to be strong anymore," she answers, words almost swallowed up by tears.

Suddenly, Itachi feels very alone.

Turning his face to the side, he presses his forehead against the crown of her head and breathes, just breathes, until everything he just heard, all the anger and fear and despair drain away with the rain that slides down their bodies, and, for this one single moment, everything but her fades away. Closing his eyes, he once more lets himself fall back to that one moment years ago, when, for the first time since they met, it was only her. Only now there is no shared blanket that smells of herbs and tea, and no reassurance in the quaking shoulder that digs into his ribs.

There is no fire, and no peace, and Itachi is cold and tired and lost.

* * *

 **A/N:** Soo, I hope this chapter cleared up the ominous hints in the previous ones. You guys seemed all so confused, and I felt really bad about that. Please tell me it makes more sense in hindsight. But still, thank you so much for taking the time to drop a line. It is much appreciated!

Not quite Friday yet, but I don't think I'll have the time to post tomorrow, so here you go! I am so looking forward to next week, you guys. That chapter has been finished and ready to go for _months_.

Lots of love,

planless


	32. pillars

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **pillars**

* * *

"There is talk the Uchiha are planning a coup."

The slow and steady grind of stone on steel never falters.

Itachi continues to run the whetstone over his kunai, and his sensei continues to stare at him. He can feel her gaze all but burning a hole into his head. He wants to resist, wants to remain steadfast and unreadable, he does – but the moment he looks up and meets her curiously flat green eyes, everything inside him caves. His very heart calls for surrender, and he would give anything to make that cool look go away.

The people of Konoha called him a genius, he muses as he watches her for a moment while contemplating his next words, but even a genius is bound to have some weak spot.

Perhaps Sakura is his.

His unprotected hamstring. His achilles-heel. Perhaps she carries the key to bridle his unhindered ascent.

"There is?" he asks, voice carefully neutral. Sakura snorts, rage sparking in her eyes. "Don't give me that crap, Itachi. I've known you for thirteen years. Don't you dare lie to my face."

He flinches, puts down his kunai. Hurt curls around his chest as he faces her anger which is – perhaps for the first time ever – directed at him. Strange. Somehow he'd always thought he could do no wrong in her eyes.

"I wouldn't call it _planning a coup_ ," he offers in a low voice, drops his gaze. "However, there is some level of discontent among the clansmen, yes."

Sakura huffs, throws herself down on the ground next to him. "Understandably so," she growls. Angry fingers begin ripping up blades of grass. Always so expressive. "The whole situation after the Kyubi was gravely mismanaged. If I had anything to say about it…" She bunches up the grass and chucks it violently across the training field. It unravels mid-flight and gently floats to the ground, unimpressed with her simmering rage. "Sometimes I regret not having gone into politics."

"You would have been terrible," Itachi replies softly. She laughs and the taught line of her shoulders relaxes. "I would have, wouldn't I? I don't have the patience."

"Or the temper."

"Or the presence."

"The manners."

"My manners are fine when they need to be, shut up. The far-sight."

"The neutrality," Itachi smiles. "Also, your language is really bad."

She grins. "It is, isn't it?"

Plucking the kunai from his hands and idly spinning it around her finger, she looks up through the canopy. "And I've never been any good at staying neutral. I've always been very partial to the people dear to me."

He looks at her, the way her eyes flit across the first stars that start to tentatively peek from the rapidly darkening sky, how her braid curls around her neck like a content cat. There's a scar, ragged and faded, that slants across her throat and dips beneath the collar of her shirt.

He lifts his hand to hook a finger under the fabric and pull it down, to see how far the mark stretches.

Sakura turns her head to look at him, gaze now open and warm and more like home than anything he's ever experienced. Something inside him clenches, and he checks his fingers which are nearing her throat. Tugs at her braid instead, snatches the kunai from her hand. Cuts his palm.

"You should be more careful," she admonishes, green chakra dancing over his broken skin, mending the gash.

"You should stop spending energy on inconsequential matters," he retorts, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

"Like I said," she says and smiles up at him. "I'm partial."

He's drowning in her eyes. He's forgotten how to breathe. Just looking at her – just looking seems enough. Right now.

She startles the air back into him when she raises her hand, drags her scarred knuckles across his cheek. "You're almost gone, Itachi," she whispers. "I've almost lost sight of you."

The corners of his mouth twist down in a sudden pang of pain and longing. He leans into the touch of her palm, hands fisted tightly into the fabric of his pants.  
"You will always have me," he murmurs, closes his eyes. Pushes back against the longing. She huffs lightly, and her breath ghosts over his face in a warm puff.

"A pretty dream," she sighs. "But the truth is, Itachi … you are no longer a child. I shouldn't hold onto you as if you were. You don't need me anymore. I just –" She stops, frowns.

"I just want to say I'm sorry. I know I'm always meddling, when you're perfectly capable of standing on your own two feet." She smiles. "Little Itachi, grown so tall. You really are the best this village has to offer. In every way."

Her hand leaves his cheek and without its support he stumbles, tethers, pitches forward against her smaller form. The breath leaves him in one fell swoop as he tries to catch himself, disoriented as he is, throws her back against the tree whose roots are sheltering them.

"I will always –" he chokes out, digs his hands into the soft material of her shirt, face pressed against her stomach. Dizzy and drowning in all that is her as hesitant fingers slowly card through his hair. _I will always need you_ , _always, always,_ hammers away painfully inside his head. But his throat is tight and his lungs are filled with whispers of green tea and herbs and she runs soothing hands over his back. He thinks it might be enough.

It has to be.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, this is it. The one chapter I've been teasing for the past month or so. I really, really loved writing this one, and I've been tinkering with the wording for ages, but not all of a sudden I'm really afraid you're not going to like it as much as I anticipated. Let me know?

Thank you so much on your feedback on the last update! I hope you will continue to stick with this story until the end (which, in all honesty, is kind of looming on the horizon).

Have a good weekend!  
Lots of love,

planless


	33. kotoamatsukami

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **kotoamatsukami**

* * *

Itachi is twenty-one the day control is wrenched from his hands.

He's sitting on the cot, eyes closed, arms resting loosely on his knees, head full of swirling thoughts from which not even Sakura's hands running over his bare back can distract him.

"You're fine," she says lightly. The tingle of her chakra vanishes alongside her gentle fingers. "A bit of a cough that will need to be monitored or it could turn bad – I'll write you a prescription –, but otherwise I am happy to report a clean bill of health. The administration centre will be pleased." Her voice turns dry. "They are always looking to push you guys into missions far too early."

Itachi can hear her move across the room, the furious scratching of a pen, then the tearing sound of paper. The light steps that bring her back to him.  
"Itachi," she calls quietly. A gentle hand brushes away his bangs. "Do you hear me? You can leave." She waves the slip of paper in his face. He looks up and holds her gaze for a second – eyes that are always so full of wisdom and worry.

Whether for him or something else, he couldn't say.

She hands him his shirt. Dressed and on the verge of leaving, he turns back around when Sakura catches his wrist. "Don't forget this," she chides gently, and pushes the prescription into his clammy fingers. Holding his hand tightly between hers, she looks up at him. "Whatever is bothering you, don't think you're alone, okay? You've been morose the past few weeks. You can rely on your friends." Itachi blinks. He doesn't have any, he thinks. At least not a lot. "You can rely on me."

A heavy sigh escapes him, and he runs his thumb over her knuckles. Contemplates. "I'm due for a mission tomorrow, but perhaps… once I return, we could have tea?" Because what harm can it do, really? If Tetsuo has taught him one thing, it is that companionship is a gift. One that requires a certain amount of compromise, yes, but a gift nevertheless.

Sakura smiles at him, a lopsided thing that looks more sad than anything. "Sure," she says, and reaches up to run her fingers over his forehead. He can feel her trace the fine lines worry has etched into his skin. "Whenever you feel like it."

A whirl of leaves and a sudden foreign presence in the examination room has them jump apart, snap to attention. A cat-masked ANBU glides down from the windowsill, their broad frame seemingly blocking the light from outside. In the now-dim room, Sakura's white coat becomes the only bright spot. Shining like a beacon.  
"Uchiha Itachi," a hollow voice announces. "You are required by the hokage."

The following hour spent in the meeting room of the council passes like a blur. Shisui is there, mien drawn and pale. He remains quiet. Cold and distant voices filter through to him, and he gets the impression of faces, but to Itachi they seem more like masks, carefully controlled and void of emotion. The air is heavy with disdain and dread.

He can feel his humanity slipping away, one carefully worded sentence at a time. Under their sharp eyes, he falters, regresses, becomes nothing more than a tool.

Acquiesces.

Companionship turns to nuisance. Friends into deadweights. Family to history. And freedom nothing more than a privilege.

By the time he leaves with his cousin, his world is hollow and he feels dead. The prescription, still clenched in one tightly balled fist, seems nothing more than a joke now. He looks down at it, thinks of Sakura's green eyes and sad smiles, and how she always smells of tea and herbs and lets him know she stands by him, _every step of the way_. Ever since the day his father introduced her as his jonin instructor. In a way, he thinks, she was Fugaku's greatest gift to him.

"Where to now?" Shisui asks quietly.

The wind picks up and Itachi lets go and the breeze carries away the crumpled piece of paper.

He traces it with his gaze, until it disappears over the slated roof of Konoha. _Where to_? Shisui's question echoes in his head.

"I don't know."

* * *

 **A/N:** This story is slowly coming to an end. Maybe a couple more chapters, and then we're done.

Truth be told, writing this doesn't satisfy me anymore. It still makes me happy, but I feel that it lacks a distinct narrative purpose. I enjoy the emotional fragments and the heaviness of it all, but all in all this is just plodding away without any real purpose to it. But by now, the writing style has become too distinct for me to try and shape this into something bigger than it is. I try to hint at a loose storyline and defining events, but I'm afraid it does more to confuse you guys than it clears things up.

But I do enjoy the slow burn. And what a slow burn it has been.

I still love this story, seen as it was a wonderful exercise in writing and has taught me much. So now I want to try my hand at something bigger, hence I'm currently plotting another TobiSaku. It's going to be a loose continuation of **colder spots** (which I kind of hate and love at the same time, as well.), so if any of you are interested in that, keep an eye out! :) I am a big fan of writing down an entire story before posting it, which means the first chapter will probably go up in autumn or early winter.

Thank you guys for sticking with me for so long! I hope you'll stay until the end.

Drop me some theories of what you think is happening in Itachi's life at the moment! :)

Your feedback (and confusion, haha) is always very much appreciated, and teaches me where I need to add more details and flesh things out more. I will keep this knowledge and incorporate it in my next story.

Lots of love,

planless


	34. mundane

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **mundane**

* * *

He walks, numb and blind, and lets his legs carry him wherever they may. He weaves through the streets and alleys, away from the hokage tower, past weapon stores and pharmacies, towards tea houses and quaint little bookstores.

He enters the civilian area of Konohagakure much as he has always done: walking, both feet firmly on the ground. Movement high above attracts his attention. A squad of chunin are vaulting over the neatly tiled roof-tops, flitting between the potted plants on a roof-terrace and out of view. Itachi lowers his gaze back to the streets. People are milling about, some chatting amiably with each other, some tending to the tiny front gardens a few of the houses sport. It all feels so mundane, like nothing has changed.

He cuts the same corners, climbs the same stairs, stands in front of that same door, as when he is following Sakura's purposeful steps. But his world has tipped sideways and sent him spinning, made him amble aimlessly, and he's not quite sure why he's here.

Green eyes meet his once the door swings open, but the smile slips off Sakura's face as soon as she sees his. At the sight of her, all air leaves his lungs in one fell swoop and he tumbles forward into her arms, and can't help but wonder at how she seems so ready to catch him – always, _always_ – and lets himself be guided into the blessed silence of her apartment.

And he tells her everything.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, I am supremely unhappy. Because this story will probably end up with less than forty chapters. But also more than thirty-five. Which means it's going to be a stupid number. Argh. But yeah, whatever. I am ready to see this baby finished, as are you probably.

I haven't had the time to write a lot for the past few weeks because I had papers due. But then, lo and behold, a pandemic comes sweeping through, and all my deadlines are postponed into May. I've also finished most of my interior remodeling. So suddenly I have lots of free time on my hands.

I am currently working on the last chapter, and I'll upload the rest of the story spaced over the next couple of days.

I hope you're still with me, and will stay with me until the end! :)

(But if you've held out this far, you probably will...)

How are you handling the Corona outbreak thus far? Germany is transitioning from self-quarantine into full-on lock down, so that's fun...

Lots of love, and I hope you all stay safe!

planless


	35. same old

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **same old**

* * *

"Where's Naruto?"  
"Oh, he's out and about… He has a lot of friends, so that's keeping him busy when he's not training or on missions…" Silence. Itachi puts down his cup with a soft _click_.

"How's work at the hospital?"

"Oh, same old, same old… You know… I've been taking on more civilian cases as of lately… They seem to be overcoming their suspicion regarding medical nin-jutsu. That's good, wouldn't you say?" A non-committal hum is Itachi's only answer.

Sakura seems to hesitate, then she gingerly perches on the couch next to Itachi who is slumped back into the cushions. "So how are you?"

The question is gentle, and soft, and it causes Itachi to turn his head to the side so he can look at her more properly.

He is tired, and his eyes are burning.

A thousand possible responses flash through his head, each of which will take the conversation into a different direction. Sorrow at how this very night, his father is going to be brainwashed by a member of his own family. He could tell her about how Shisui is probably going to contemplate suicide afterwards, because he will feel like a traitor. Itachi knows his cousin. They are more alike than he cares to admit on most days. And then there's the disbelief, and the absolute earth-shattering disappointment he feels when reflecting on just how far the leadership of this village is willing to go in order to preserve order and, to a lesser extent, peace. Because Itachi himself – he's the backup plan. In case it doesn't work, in case the clan doesn't bend.

If the problem cannot be solved, it will be eradicated.

But Itachi lacks both the energy and the viciousness to go off on a tangent like that. It would feel too much like lashing out. It's not what Sakura deserves. And when he meets her searching gaze, he understands that she already knows. Because even if he's only given her the bare bones, a clinical recounting of his meeting with the council, even if he's left out any personal evaluation – she already knows. She always does.

"I'm tired," he admits. She blinks slowly, and the corners of her mouth twist down sadly. Leans into his side and curls her arms around him. Itachi lets his head drop and come to rest on her shoulder. They sit like this for a long time, quiet, until dusk begins to settle and steam no longer curls from their neglected cups of tea.

"I don't think I can be a shinobi anymore," Itachi murmurs into the stillness. She shifts a bit, and her jonin uniform rustles softly. He takes a shuddering breath, inhaling the scent of her, before he lets the air rush back out from his lungs and take with it those damning words he has been too quiet to speak his entire life.

"I don't like fighting. I don't like hurting. I know we're supposed to grow at least indifferent to it, but I can't. After each mission, I am tired past the standard time of recuperation. Sometimes, in the mornings, my bones feel too heavy for me to get up. But still I do, every day, and I go out, and take missions, and continue to _hurt_ and to kill, because… because…" He flounders, and gives up. Sakura presses her cheek against the crown of his head.

"Because you are kind," she murmurs into his hair, trails soothing fingers over his arm. "Because you are strong, and dedicated, and you would give everything in your power to see this village and its people safe. You are brave, Itachi. More so than you know." Her embrace tightens minutely. "You will find your way. You might not see it right now. But you'll get there, in time."

Abruptly, he pulls from her embrace, and sits up, half-turning to face her more fully. "I want to walk away from it all," he breathes. Her eyes flash with comprehension. It shines like a gentle light, strengthens his resolve. "I want to walk away, and never return."

He looks at her, truly looks at her, and for the first time in years, what he sees is not compassion, or wisdom, or the sheer perfection he has built her up to be. In the orange light filtering in through the window, the scars gleam softly on her exposed skin, and her hair is tinted as red as the Uzumaki swirl on the sleeve of her uniform. Sitting here, looking at him with a level of understanding that runs so deep it _hurts_ , she's every bit as broken and messed up and tired as he is. And somehow, that makes him love her even more.

Just hours ago, he was adrift, reeling. And now he's here, with her, feeling more assured and determined of his path than he has in a long, long while. Hours ago, he was wondering where to go. Now he's thinking, was there really ever any question?

"I want to leave," he reiterates, squares his shoulders, takes her hands in his. Presses his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.

"Come with me."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for your sweet reviews, and for sticking with this story! The last chapter was super short and I thought I'd give you something more to read, so here you go! I hope you enjoy.

 **PugEyed** , I honestly don't feel quarantine to be relaxing. It makes me antsy, and seen as I live in a student dorm, I'm always stuck in the same tiny room. It's going to be an interesting few weeks. But I'm sure we'll manage. Hang in there!

I'll see you next update, whenever that may be! Probably once I'm bored enough by quarantine to finally submit myself to proofreading the next chapter.

Lots of love, as always,

planless


	36. want

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **want**

* * *

The sound of shattering glass has them jump apart, and just as quick as Sakura throws up her fists, Itachi's sharingan spins to life on instinct.

Panting and doubled over, Shisui is standing in the middle of Sakura's living room amid a sea of glittering shards, hands propped on his knees and sweat beading from his brow.  
"I've been looking all over for you!" he gasps. "Your father…! Your father…" "Shisui, breathe," Sakura interrupts. It takes a moment for Itachi's cousin to compose himself, but eventually he straightens up and continues at a more measured pace, "Your father just met with the council. All–" He throws Sakura a quick glance, then continues, "All orders have been rescinded. We are to meet with them first thing tomorrow morning." He pauses, looks thoughtful for a moment. "You should probably see uncle before. He'll want to talk to you."

Itachi opens his mouth to say something, ask something, _do anything_ , but the sheer relief in his cousin's voice brings him up short. He hesitates, turns to look at Sakura. He holds her gaze for the longest time before giving a tiny, barely perceptible nod. "I will speak to him."

She follows them down the hallway to the door. "Sorry for your window, by the way," Shisui chuckles awkwardly. "I'll send someone to fix it." And he bounds down the stairs and out the main door.

Itachi turns around to look at Sakura. "I'll come find you once everything is settled." Her only answer is a mute nod.

She's leaning against the doorframe, arms curled around her middle, watching him with an intent gaze.

For a moment, Itachi thinks he might kiss her.

But when he bends down, he merely brushes his lips over her cheek, unable to do anything more. His stomach does a strange flip and he thinks that, if hours ago he hadn't been ordered to exterminate his entire family, he might have smiled. As it is, he merely trails his fingers down her arm.

His heart skips a beat when Sakura catches his hand in hers. She looks as if she wants to say something, but then merely sighs and gives his fingers a gentle squeeze.

He can feel her eyes on his back when he turns around to follow his cousin who is waiting outside.

As Shisui takes to the rooftops and Itachi is quick to follow, he looks down, at the quaint little streets, the tiny front gardens some of the houses sport, the calm milling of everyday life, and he can't help but think of how much he wants this.

A boy, about fifteen of age, straightens from his crouched position on a grassy patch and raises his arms high above his head, stretches, like a cat. The knees of his pants are stained green and his fingers are dirty. Next to his feet, there is a sizeable heap of pulled weeds.

Under different circumstances, that could have been Itachi. Once. But if he's honest, never really. Still. He can't help but wish.

They reach the compound soon enough, slip through the main gate where the guards nod at them in greeting. Itachi notes the cracked Uchiha fan to the left of it has been patched up and painted over. They hurry through the narrow streets, which are nearly empty despite it being only early evening, to the home they share.

"Uncle was in his his study when I left. He's probably still up."

When Itachi enters the room, so much smaller than the grand imposing space his father used to call office in their old house, Fugaku is stooped low over his desk. As per usual, it is covered in scrolls and loose sheets of papers and ink pots and brushes, and in as much is the same as it has been nearly every day for the past two years. But when Itachi's father looks up at his soft call, the angry furrow of his brow has smoothed out, and the displeased curve of his lips has morphed into something much softer that could almost be called a smile.

"Son," he greets, stepping around his desk and up to Itachi who is still hovering in the doorframe. "Finally, the tides are turning for our family." Confused as to what has brought about this sudden change in demeanour, Itachi tilts his head in a silent question. As he holds his father's gaze, he tries to quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach. "You can turn this village around, you can lift the housing restrictions placed on our clan, you can do _so much good_."

He places his hands on Itachi's shoulders, eyes gleaming with triumph and hope and fear.  
"Father, I don't understand," Itachi begins, then trails off, unsure of how to continue. Somehow, he doesn't even want to know where this is going.

"Itachi, my child." Fugaku's voice reverberates with pride.  
"The council agreed to make you the next hokage."

* * *

 **A/N:** Yeah, sorry it took me so long... The story is finished, but I was so unhappy with the way I ended things for the longest time. It felt kind of lacklustre. It still does, to an extent, but after a bit of tinkering I am much happier with how everything turned out. Next update to follow soon.

Lots of love,

planless


	37. above all else

**and the scarry skies above**

* * *

 **above all else**

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Feh." Kicking back in his chair, Naruto throws up his feet. They meet the oaken surface of the table with a solid _thump_. "I am physically unable to sit through a single council meeting. I already get pins and needles in my ass when I just think of it. Besides." He takes the hokage hat off his head and frisbees it at Itachi, who catches it easily. "The red clashes terribly with my hair. It really suits you much better."

Eyeing the broad rimmed hat as he turns it over in his fingers, Itachi sighs. "I really think you would be a better fit for this." Naruto frowns at him from where he is perched precariously behind the table. Just beyond, past the large panorama windows, Konoha sprawls peacefully in the sunlight.

"Nonsense. You've only had this office for eight months and already changed more than the old man in his entire career. You're good at this." They words are meant to console, but all they do is tighten the lump in Itachi's throat. He drops his gaze.

The legs of the chair hit the floorboards audibly, and then Naruto is walking over. He lays a gentle hand on Itachi's shoulder. "Hey. No matter what anybody told you. This truly is the best outcome."

"Sakura said it was your dream to become hokage." It is feeble, a last attempt to sway the unchangeable. Naruto smiles, a lopsided little thing that is as much content as it is sad.  
"Dreams change, Itachi. I've been gone for a very long time and this village… it's not as I remember."

"You could make it yours."

Blue eyes cloud over with sadness. "Ah, perhaps I could… But it's not _mine_ anymore, you see? I would feel like an intruder… I live in my friend's apartment, for gods sake. No. No, truly, you are the perfect choice, Itachi." Then his face lights up with his usual glee, and the spark returns to his eyes. "Besides, there are a pair of footsteps I have yet to follow in… I feel like there's a novel in the making… Don't you think?"

Itachi sighs, and the fight drains from his body. "What about?" he asks. Quietly. Morosely. "Oh, I don't know… But I feel like a scandalous teacher-student love affair would make for a nice plot hook, don't you think?" Years ago, that comment would have hit Itachi like a kick to the chest. He always used to feel like he was caught red-handed. Now, his shoulders merely slump tiredly.

Naruto continues, undeterred. "I don't know… No… I think I'll write about a brave man. Maybe a king, or a general, who is pressured into ruling because he's wise when really all he wants to to is plant some potatoes… That sounds better, don't you think?"

"If you say so…"

Naruto grins at Itachi's lacklustre response and raises his arms high above his head.

"Well, I'd better get going," he says and stretches. "Got a lot of road to cover."

With one final friendly punch, he steps past Itachi and out of the office. The door doesn't quite latch behind him, and drifting through the gap Itachi can make out the murmured conversation that follows.

"No, he's alright for the job. He really doesn't want this, you know, but the best he had was 'I thought you wanted to be hokage'. Either he's a pushover, or he'll always put his own needs last. In any case, he's a good candidate."

A dry snort. "How does being a pushover make him a good hokage?" "Because he has you…" Itachi's heart twists. "You'll guide him to the best of your abilities. You know what it is expected in his position, and you'll be able to counsel him, much better than I ever could. I've been away for too long, Sakura-chan."

She sighs, and Itachi can almost _hear_ the unhappy turn of her mouth, the slump of her shoulders.

"It feels like I've been around forever, Naruto… Truly, I'm getting tired of all this."

Naruto laughs, and Itachi can no longer help himself. He sneaks up to the door and peers through the gap between the panel and its frame. From here, he can see Naruto's broad back, and Sakura who is turned to face him.

"You know I would take you with me in a heartbeat, but it's not as if you'd ever leave. Still…" He gently rests his hands on Sakura's shoulders. "I regret leaving you behind… again." She smiles, reaches up to cover his fingers with hers. "I don't care. I got you back, at least for a while… And it's not like you'll be gone forever. We can always see each other…" She trails off, traces her thumbs over Naruto's wrists. Then she tips her head and whispers, "Nevertheless, I'll miss you."

They hug each other then, an embrace that starts off soft and frail, but turns heart-wrenchingly desperate as the seconds tick by. "I'll miss you, too," Naruto breathes into her hair, and a single stifled sob escapes Sakura.  
They stand like this for the longest time, and Itachi feels like an intruder. And yet, he cannot bring himself to look away. His eyes are glued to Sakura's face that is scrunched up in pain, tears slipping down her cheeks.

At the sight, he almost cannot believe that she will stay. Here. With him.

But she does. Naruto and her part ways with one last wave. Then the sage moves and leaves the village, and Sakura remains, slumped and alone in the corridor outside the hokage's office.

By the time she finally moves, knocks on the door, enters on his soft call, Itachi is already back at his desk, sorting through documents and scrolls. His hat is flung carelessly into one corner.  
"Well then," Sakura says. Her voice is still teary with an edge and her smile is tiny, but it is honest. "That's that done away with."

Itachi refrains from commenting on her grief, remains silent instead. For a moment, all they do is stand and watch each other, measuring, waiting. The longer Itachi looks into her sad green eyes, the more the few feet that separate them seem like an ocean. An ocean in which he can find no purchase, and he is drowning and she is the shore, a promise of safety and warmth and home. But he can never quite reach.

Because, deep down, pulsing faintly with every heartbeat and thrumming through the very marrow of his bones, there is the knowledge that, when asked to walk with him, away from it all… she wouldn't have followed.

* * *

 **A/N:** So that's that. What do you think?

I want to, once again, thank all of you for sticking with this story. It has been a bumpy ride, and updates have been more irregular than anything else, but still I enjoyed it for the most part, and it is my sincere hope that you did as well!

Thank you especially to all the people who wrote about how my writing style managed to grow on them, despite their usual preference for longer and more elaborate chapters. I am truly glad I managed to win you over, and hopefully afford you a good read.

Now it is off to new shores (longer chapters and a rare pair... MinatoSakuracoughcough. Corona quarantine allows me A LOT of time to write.)

Thank you all for sticking around, commenting and, most importantly, reading!

Lots of love, as always.

planless


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